


The Strike of the Match

by Pdxtrent



Series: The Consequences of Destruction [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bad Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Constructive Criticism Welcome, Dark Stiles Stilinski, Fandom Trumps Hate 2020, Gen, Lydia has zero fucks to give, Major Character Injury, Major character death - Freeform, Peter and Stiles are murderbros, Stiles Stilinski is Pushed Out of the Pack, Stiles runs out of fucks, Things Go Wrong, stiles is something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26761204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pdxtrent/pseuds/Pdxtrent
Summary: He’d been trying unsuccessfully to track down Malia and Lydia before he had to meet Scott, and then the Jeep hadn’t wanted to start again, and he just hoped that the goddamn rain wasn’t a further metaphor for this fucked up day, because he was already past his limit.Scott came out of the clinic and Stiles didn’t know how he always looked so pulled together and calm with everything that was going on. It was one of life’s real mysteries, way beyond werewolves and the murder doctors.“Hey, he said to his best friend, “sorry I couldn’t get the jeep to start again. It’s barely holding on and I couldn’t get ahold of Malia or Lydia.” His voice trailed off as Scott stepped into the light, and there was a look in Scott’s face, something he’d never seen there before.“Scott?” He said, though what exactly he was questioning he wasn’t sure, but the look left him unsettled and on edge.Scott didn’t say anything, he just tilted his head up slightly and raised his hand, a gleam of something catching Stiles’s eye before he could see that it was a familiar wrench.
Relationships: Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken & Stiles Stilinski
Series: The Consequences of Destruction [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949968
Comments: 325
Kudos: 449





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wam6996](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wam6996/gifts).



> This will be a series of at least two stories. The first has 10 chapters and an epilogue. The second will be around 12 chapters. It is endgame Stackson not Sterek though there will be some Derek and Stiles brotp in part two.  
> It’s a gift for Wam6996 who has waited patiently while I figured out the details of how I wanted to write this. Thanks for your patience buddy!

Stiles cursed the torrential rain as he pulled into Deaton’s parking lot, the lightning flickering in the distance. Anxious and exhausted and body aching from the lack of sleep and stress he slid out of the Jeep, his mind on fire with everything going on. 

He could tell the Adderall wasn’t working anymore, maybe it was another symptom of whatever was changing in him, or if he was finally getting too fucked up in the head for the medicine to contain it. On top of that he was once again losing time and hallucinating. He couldn’t tell if it was all part of the same thing, and he was indeed becoming some sort of supernatural creature, if it was the nogitsune returning, or if it was the onset of the dementia he feared more than anything else. He’d scheduled a doctor's appointment for Friday, and had left a message for Deaton to call him as soon as he got back from wherever he had fucked off to, he would get answers before he burdened anyone else with his problems again. If it could be fixed, he would fix it.

He’d been trying unsuccessfully to track down Malia and Lydia before he had to meet Scott, and then the Jeep hadn’t wanted to start again, and he just hoped that the goddamn rain wasn’t a further metaphor for this fucked up day, because he was already past his limit. 

Scott came out of the clinic and Stiles didn’t know how he always looked so pulled together and calm with everything that was going on. It was one of life’s real mysteries, way beyond werewolves and the murder doctors.

“Hey,” he said to his best friend, “sorry I couldn’t get the jeep to start again. It’s barely holding on and I couldn’t get ahold of Malia or Lydia.” His voice trailed off as Scott stepped into the light, and there was a look in Scott’s face, something he’d never seen there before. 

“Scott?” He said, though what exactly he was questioning he wasn’t sure, but the look left him unsettled and on edge. 

Scott didn’t say anything, he just tilted his head up slightly and raised his hand, a gleam of light off of whatever it was catching Stiles’s eye before he could see that it was a very familiar wrench. 

“Where’d you get that?” Stiles said softly, barely audible above the thunder and rain, but knowing Scott would hear him. His exhausted mind raced to connect the dots before it finally struck him, this was Theo of course. This had to be Theo finally making his play, just like his dad said he would. This was the start of the end game then, he felt nauseated and relieved all at once, whatever Theo’s play, it would be over soon and they could get back to focusing on stopping the chimeras and the Dread Doctors, and Stiles could figure out what was going on with himself and deal with it.

“This is yours?” Stiles saw a familiar resolve steel Scott’s face, though it had never been directed at him before. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Scott said, passing it to Stiles, and Stiles could hear the judgement in his voice. Scott already knew what he thought had happened, and Stiles knew-

Well, Stiles knew what he knew, and knew what he couldn’t say. And fuck Theo for dropping this now, tonight. “I was going to,” he answered, and the thing was, he was going to. He finally had a plan, and he only needed a few more days, a few more answers to his questions, before he confessed everything. He just needed to understand what it all meant.

“Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?” Scott said, and the distrust was so clear on his face, was gut wrenching.

“I couldn’t,” he answered, because it was true. He didn’t know what it all meant yet, and Scott hated the gray areas of things, so he needed answers before he could tell Scott. With everything else going on, he needed to be a solution to problems, and not another problem himself. He felt a phantom pain in his shoulder from the chimera’s bite that had long since healed over. 

“You killed him? You killed Donovan?” Stiles finally caught up with the program. Was this seriously what Scott was going to get fucking caught up on? His fucking ‘we have to save everyone’ bullshit? Donovan had threatened his dad right in front of both of them! 

“He was going to kill my dad. Was I supposed to just let him?” Stiles knew he couldn’t say ‘he was going to kill me’, because now Stiles knew that wasn’t true. The overnight healing and supernatural strength guaranteed that. Stiles knew the one thing he couldn’t do right now if he wanted to save his friendship was to lie.

“You weren’t supposed to do this. None of us are.” The sheer hypocrisy almost drove Stiles to his knees. The whirl of thoughts and pressure in his head like a second storm. 

“You think I had a choice?” Stiles said finally, because really what choice was there if it had been an accident? 

“There’s always a choice,” Scott said hotly, and Stiles' temper burned. What choice? The choice to let Donovan eat him? The choice to put his dad’s life in danger? Scott’s choices had gotten Stiles tied up and beaten by the fucking Argents to protect his mom against a threat. He’d walked away to work with fucking serial killer Deucalion for his mom. And Stiles accidentally kills one piece of lowlife shit by accident, and that was unacceptable?

“Well I can’t do what you can Scott,” are the words that come out instead of the unforgivable accusations boiling inside. “I know you wouldn’t have done it. You probably would have just figured something out right?” And this was truly a low blow, because when had Scott McCall ever figured things out? His plans were shit, they were always shit. High on morals and low on actual plans.

“I try.”

The utter nerve drove Stiles over the edge. Who knew that Theo’s plan was simply to bend Scott even deeper into his delusion that everyone could be saved? Stiles couldn’t figure out the game, why make Scott less effective? Why drive his pack away from him if he wanted to be in Scott’s pack? “Yeah,” he finally said, “cause you’re Scott McCall, you’re the true alpha.” The bitter mockery was thick on his tongue. “Guess what? All of us can’t be true alphas. Some of us make mistakes. Some of us have to get our hands a little bloody sometimes.” Then, suddenly furious and exhausted he went for the cruelest dig, because this was the end of the road and he could see it coming. “Some of us are human!” Some of them were. Just not Stiles. Not anymore.

“So you had to kill him?” That’s when Stiles’ heart broke. When he realized all Scott seemed to care about at the end of the day was some sense of perfect moral purity. 

“Yeah,” he said simply, “He was going to kill my dad.” Because now, in this moment, that’s all that was left. He had no brother if his father’s safety wasn’t as important as Scott’s mom. 

“The way that it happened. There’s a point where it’s just not self defense anymore.” And that, it tore something loose in Stiles. Scott had been at the station when they brought Donovan in, he heard that initial threat, had said that it wasn’t a lie. It didn’t matter what Scott thought he knew about the night at the library, Scott didn’t even care about his dad's safety. 

“What are you even talking about? I didn’t have a choice Scott, you don’t even believe me do you?” 

“I want to,” Scott said. Stiles didn’t even need to be a werewolf to hear the lie. Scott believed what he wanted to, he always had. That line had always included Stiles, but now he had redrawn the line, himself on one side, and Stiles on the other. 

“Okay right. Then believe me then Scott, Say you believe me. Say it. Say you believe me.” He wanted him to say it, needed him to say it, he needed the years of friendship to have meant something. The weight of shared experience, the simple knowing of the shape of a brother's soul, but Stiles could read Scott’s eyes, and he already knew the answer.

“Stiles, we can’t kill people we’re trying to save.” Who were they even trying to save if it wasn’t their family, and their friends? What was the point if you sacrificed the people you protected to save the monster at the door? 

Stiles held his hand up, the fucking wrench that started this whole thing still in it, and said, “Say you believe me,” a plea he knew would be unanswered when he saw Scott flinch back from the wrench. Scott flinched back from Stiles, and Stiles flinched himself, like he’d been struck.

“We can’t kill people. Do you believe that?” And no, Stiles didn’t believe that. They’d killed Peter. They should have killed Deucalion and Jennifer Blake. There were monsters you saved and monsters you killed, and he knew which one Donovan had been. 

Stiles' reply was heartbroken in a way he didn’t know how to hide. “What do I do about this? What do you want me to do okay? Scott just tell me how to fix this alright? Just tell me? What do you want me to do?” The emotions poured through Stiles - anger, betrayal, fear, and a desperate desire to keep the world from changing shape again the way it had so many times since his mother’s death. He was begging because he’d cascaded through all of his emotions, but as his anger died in the judgement in Scott’s eyes, he felt tiny and fragile, and so very very afraid of being alone.

“Don’t worry about Malia or Lydia. I’ll find them. Maybe uh, maybe you should talk to your dad.” As Scott walked away into the vet clinic, Stiles' panic rose inside of him and the storm raging in the sky drowned out the sound of the wrench hitting the ground.

The lights of an oncoming car flashed across Stiles’ eyes and he shook his head, a sense of horror taking over as he glanced at the clock on his broken radio. It was after eleven and he had no memory of what had happened in the three hours since he left the vet clinic. The lightning had stopped and the rain had slowed to a soft drizzle, so he pulled the Jeep over and got out. He looked around trying to figure out where he was but all he saw was darkness and trees. The road wasn’t one he recognized so he got back inside, shakily pulling out his phone.

No missed calls.

He pulled up his GPS which wasn’t working either. He tossed the phone into his passenger seat and started to put the Jeep back in gear as he noticed something on his phone. He picked it back up and looked closer. He pulled up the menu and scrolled through it to the system settings and saw the cellular network was turned off. Shaking he turned it back on. The network flashed alive and suddenly his phone was inundated with voicemail notifications and text alerts. 

He clicked on one at random and it was from Liam from less than an hour before in all caps: 

HE LET HER DIE!

Stiles' mind whirled and he quickly hit dial. When Liam’s phone went to voicemail he hung up and sent a quick text for clarification as to who Liam meant. He stabbed into his next text, and opened the chain with Parrish:

Have you heard from your dad? 

Stiles, trying to find your dad, give me a call please?

Stiles? 

Stiles I’m trying to get ahold of you. We can’t find your dad. 

Stiles? 

Please be okay.

Stiles let someone know you’re okay. 

Stiles. Please. Call me.

Please be okay.

That was the last one from twenty minutes before. And the combination of messages pulled the breath from his chest. He pressed the call button shaking. 

“Stiles!” Parrish shouted through the phone. “Is that you?” 

“Parrish,” Stiles said. “My network settings were fucked up by the storm I think, what’s going on?” 

“Stiles, your dad is missing. We traced where his phone pinged earlier today to the Preserve, but we can’t find a trace of him or it” Parrish said. “Where are you?” 

“I’m not sure,” Stiles said, mouth dry and panic rising, “I’ve just been driving. I’m- hold on-“ he stabbed at the GPS icon. It pulled up one of the back roads through the preserve. “I’m on the backside of the preserve, I’ll be back in about 20 minutes.” 

“We’re near where the old Hale House was,” Parrish said. “The staties are here too, tell them you’re with me if there’s a problem.” 

“I’m on my way!” Stiles said, tossing his phone back down and spinning his wheels as he whipped around on the road.

He was almost back to where Hale House once stood when his phone rang and he glanced down and saw Lydia’s face. He reached over and turned the speaker phone on, “Lyds?” 

“Stiles where are you?” she said in a panic. 

“I’m on my way to meet Parrish. My dad-“ 

“Stiles, Hayden’s dead. Liam’s freaking out and ran off. No one can find Kira. And Scott’s acting super strange. What’s going on?” 

Stiles stomach plummeted. “It’s Theo,” he said. “I think he’s making his move. He told Scott about Donovan attacking me at the school, and Scott’s convinced I killed him in cold blood or something. Now my dad’s missing, I’ve got to find my dad,” he said in anguish as he pulled in behind Parrish’s cruiser. 

“Your dad,” she breathed into the phone, “Stiles- I-“ and then his phone cut out. 

“Lydia?” he said, and then he heard in the distance a sound, low at first then gathering strength, and he recognized the cry of the banshee and then through the waves of sound he heard the name she screamed and his heart froze and he barely registered himself pulling his key out of the ignition and clutching it in his hand, tears rushing out of his eyes. “No,” he said softly. “Nonononono nonononono.” He pleaded with an unhearing uncaring universe. “Not my dad.” 

The universe didn’t answer and the rain started to fall harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah.  
> If you read my stories on a regular basis you know I adore the sheriff. So killing him off was difficult. But there is really only one strong leash on Stiles worst impulses (even if they were still tight this would divide Scott and Stiles), so it was the best fracture point to make this all go very very wrong.   
> Sorry about the Scott and Stiles dialogue, there’s not much you can do with canon! I’ll be back in a few days with chapter 2.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles peeled his eyes open slowly to a room where the lighting was all wrong, and he struggled to try to piece together where he was. There was a fog in his mind and memory like soft wool. He groaned softly and turned to look around the unfamiliar bedroom. He blinked in the sunlight but a memory of rain triggered a cascade of memories. “No,” he breathed out. “Nononono.” He struggled to get out of the blankets wrapped around his still clothed body as the door opened. He looked up at Lydia’s tear streaked face and knew it hadn’t been a dream or hallucination. 

“No!” he said again and stopped fighting with the blankets and finally slumped back on the bed, defeated.

“They haven’t found him yet,” Lydia said softly. 

Stiles started to sob and turned to her as she came up to him and he finally pulled his arms free and pulled her into him. He cried into her as she held him, heedless of anything but his loss and the soft sound of her words.

Something she said finally caught his attention, and the numb grief he felt was pushed back slightly. “What?” he said.

“Scott stopped by last night,” she said hesitantly. “He had Theo with him. Scott said Theo had been with him the whole evening and couldn’t have been the one to kill your dad.” 

Stiles hesitated, he knew it was Theo with an utter certainty. Then the other half of what that meant became clear. “He was there. At the clinic,” he said, his mind putting it together faster. “He was inside.” 

“Scott said you’d killed Donovan. That Theo tried to stop you.” 

“No,” Stiles said. “That’s not what happened. Roscoe died on the street. She’s been having problems. I was trying to get her going when Donovan came up behind me and-“ he reached up to touch his shoulder where the bite had healed overnight without a scar. “He grabbed me. I hit him with the wrench and ran into the library. He followed. I climbed a construction platform, and he was threatening to eat me and then kill my dad. There was-“ he shook his head, “something came loose in my hand. The rebar came free, all of it, and it-“ he paused, “a piece went right through his chest like it was aimed, I didn’t mean for it to happen. He was screaming that he was going to eat my dad and then he just... wasn’t. I called 911 then ran, by the time the deputies arrived his body was gone. Like Tracy. Like all the others.” 

“Parrish,” she whispered.

“Probably yeah,” he said. “Did Scott know I was here?” 

“No,” she said. “He didn’t ask, and he acted strange. I didn’t let them in, it was late and mom was home.” She shrugged.

“Oh my god, does your mom know I’m here?” he asked looking for a clock. “There’s school! There’s-“ she pressed her hand to his cheek.

“Stop,” she said. “My mom knows you’re here. I told her the sheriff was missing. She said it was fine that I stayed with you today.” 

“I don’t remember-“ he shook his head. “Did I see Parrish?” 

“I called Parrish just after I-“ she hesitated. “Just after. And he told me where he was and you said you were headed there, I drove right over. You were-“ she shook her head. “I haven’t seen you like that since the nogitsune. I made you take one of my Valium and you were asleep in minutes. He drove you back and carried you up here.” 

He nodded. “I feel fuzzy, like in my head and my body. I haven’t slept well lately.” 

“Malia and I talk,” she said quietly. “She doesn’t think you’ve been sleeping at all.” 

“Not really,” he confessed. “Scott and I broke up,” he said, the words just slipping out.

“Because of Donovan?” she asked.

“Yeah. He kept saying I killed him, which yeah I did, but I didn’t mean to, it wasn’t murder. Not like Scott said. Donovan was threatening my dad and had these, like, hand mouths. I just wanted to get away, and keep him away from my dad, I didn’t mean for him to die though. And Scott didn’t even care he was threatening my dad. I can’t-“ he shook his head, “I can’t be like that. And now he’s dead anyways.” Tears started to crawl down his cheeks again. “I’m not even sure the last thing I said to him. Did I tell him I loved him yesterday? I can’t remember.” 

“You did,” Lydia said confidently. “I’ve heard you say goodbye to your dad often enough. You always say it.” 

“I didn’t say it enough,” Stiles said.

“You did. Your dad knew you loved him. No one who has ever seen him look at you would doubt he loved you. No one who ever saw you look at him would doubt you loved him just as much.” 

“What am I going to do without him?” Stiles whispered. 

“You go on,” she said softly. “That’s all you can do. And you won’t be alone. You have me. You have Malia. You have-“ she hesitated, “you have friends. People who love you.” 

“You mean Scott,” Stiles said softly. 

“I mean everyone who loves you. Yes Scott, who’ll get his head out of his ass, and Kira, even Jackson, because I know you guys talk and he tells me things sometimes.” She grabbed his hand, “and Derek, even if he fails at saying it, he cares deeply for you.” 

He made a dismissive sound. 

“No Stiles, you listen to me, I know Derek is the last one to say it, but he’d be devastated if something happened to you. After everything you’ve gone through together you’re as close to a best friend as he has. He trusts you, and Derek doesn’t trust anyone.” 

And that drew Stiles up short, because while he knew what Derek was to him, he hadn’t thought about what he was to Derek. It was a strange, hard to define sort of relationship, made up of a complex web of snark and annoyance and saving each other’s life. But there were also those quiet times, as rare as they were, when it was also made up of just being there for each other. And yeah, what was friendship if it wasn’t that? 

“Get up,” she said. “We have things to do.” 

“What could we possibly have to do at this point?” Stiles asked. 

“Find your dad,” she whispered. “I need-“ she shook her head. “I can’t do that alone.” 

The grief he’d been holding back crushed him again. He started tugging off the blankets again and finally got free, and stood up. “We should call Parrish,” he said. “We can’t just be the ones to find him. We need to do it right.” 

She nodded. “I’ve got your phone plugged in downstairs.” 

Fifteen minutes later they had a plan. 

Lydia watched him methodically eat through a plate of eggs and sausage that had been waiting for him. He’d tried to skip the food, but she’d insisted, and he’d never managed to not do something Lydia insisted on. He looked at his phone, at the endless list of unanswered text threads and he couldn’t even fathom trying to answer them all. He left it unlocked and slid it over to Lydia who started clicking through threads and replying as he slowly finished the food. He was surprised that she was done before he was.

“There’s a few I left untouched. Melissa. A couple of the deputies,” she hesitated. “Scott and Theo.” 

He snorted. “Even if he didn’t do it himself, I know he’s involved,” he said.

“I believe you,” she said simply. “I pay attention. Your suspicions are usually right.” 

The simple fact of being believed, because he didn’t think Lydia was trying to humor him, that wasn’t her, was staggering. It didn’t do anything about the grief that was like a tidal wave crashing around him, but it left him feeling more anchored in the storm of it.

“But first we find your dad. Then we deal with Theo. Then whatever is going on with these Dread Doctors and their monsters.” 

He nodded. “I tried to call Derek,” he said after a few minutes. “And I called Cora. She said he’s still trying to track down Kate.”

“I thought he was with Braedan?” she said. 

“Apparently not anymore.” He took a deep breath, “they’re not like forever together, but he likes her, trusts her as much as he’s able. And she gets that is all he can give her, and he accepts that she can’t really love or trust a werewolf. It’s a weird thing but it works for them.” 

“Okay,” she said. “Parrish says he’s got state inspectors and the FBI to deal with, but the guy running the show agreed to letting us join the search party because it’s your dad. But he wants to talk to you first.” She hesitated, “it’s Scott’s dad.”

“Fuck, Agent McDouche is back?” 

“Parrish says he’s doing a good job keeping everything going, so he must be good at his job.” 

“He is, he’s just-“ Stiles shook his head. “It’s fine I’ll go play nice.” 

“Just remember, the Valium is still in your system, so you’ll be thinking slower, it’ll be harder to lie,” she said. 

“I’ll just play dumb.” 

“That might make him more suspicious.” 

He nodded. “Yeah, probably.” He stood up and rinsed his plate and fork and put them in the dishwasher. “No time like the present I guess.” 

“He’s running point at the station,” she said with a nod. 

He took a deep breath.

  
  


Rafe was in his dad's office, and Stiles hesitated a moment when he walked into the station. He wasn’t ready to go in there yet, but Rafe, surprisingly, looked up and walked out to meet him. 

“Stiles,” he said, unexpectedly open, though watchful as well. “Thanks for coming in.” 

Stiles just nodded, unable to stop looking at the office. 

“Let’s go to the conference room?” Rafe said, guiding Stiles towards the hall. 

He got Stiles into a seat and Lydia had shaken her head to drinks, so Rafe sat down across from him. “Stiles, I know we’ve had our differences, and that you blame me for things that happened when I left. But if there’s anything you know that can help us find your dad, can you please tell me? Even if it’s just that there’s parts you won’t tell me.”

“I’m not-“ Stiles said, with a slight shake of his head. “I’m not gonna screw around with your investigation. I just want to help Parrish look for my dad.” 

Rafe drew back, seemingly thrown off by Stiles being cooperative.

“Okay. I’m fine with that. I just wanted to let you know, if you know something that might help us bring him home you can tell me, I know there’s secrets you keep. But we just want to get him home alive here.” 

Stiles started to cry again. The fresh reminder of his father's loss cutting through even the cottony haze of the Valium. 

“Sorry,” Lydia said. “I gave him a Valium last night so he’d sleep.”

“I’m familiar with his usual level of no filter,” Rafe replied. 

“Yes. But you’re more likely to hear the parts he holds back now.” 

“He holds part of it back?” 

“I’m right here,” Stiles said, finally getting his tears under control. “And I’m fine.” He nodded. “I’m even being nice to Agent McDouche.” He blinked then wiped his face again and crossed his arms, “Okay. Yeah, I see what you mean.” 

“I know there’s things you think you can’t tell me,” Rafe said, looking at him seriously. “But you can.” 

“Fine. No secrets,” Stiles said looking at him. “Your son is a werewolf,” he paused, “And an asshole but that’s probably genetic.” He watched Rafe’s face which didn’t even flinch at the first part, but shifted in surprise at the second. “But you already know about werewolves don’t you?” he said, voicing his suspicion.

“Yes,” Rafe nodded. “And the, I’m guessing it was a kanima a couple of years ago, and with a world tree hiding out in the Preserve somewhere, there’s probably witches and druids and all the rest.” 

“Well fuck,” Stiles said, the effects of the Valium still made the statement much calmer than he’d ever been. “Well what do you know about banshees?” he asked vaguely.

“They’re rare. Powerful. Secretive. The agency hasn’t had much luck getting one to talk to us.” 

“Ta Da!” Stiles said gesturing at Lydia with jazz hands. “Obviously if you tell anyone in the agency what she is I’ll hunt you down and kill you,” he added in an offhand way.

Rafe looked at Lydia, “It’s less annoying than when he’s his usual self, but a little more disturbing.” 

She tilted her head and nodded once. “I screamed for the sheriff last night,” she said. “Just after 1130. Stiles was on his way to meet Parrish and we were talking on the phone. I’d felt it coming, but I didn’t realize who-“ she paused. “I didn’t realize.” 

Rafe turned to look at Stiles, and his eyes were soft in a way Stiles has never seen. “Stiles,” he said, “I’m so sorry, he was a good man.” 

Stiles nodded, trying to hold back more tears, and looked away.

Rafe turned to Lydia, “I’ve read that some banshees can locate the bodies of those they scream for.” 

“I can,” she confirmed. “It’s why Stiles kept appearing at crime scenes sophomore and junior year.” 

He nodded slowly, “He was following you.” He turned back to Stiles, “So what are you?” 

Stiles looked at him in surprise, “I was possessed by an evil Japanese demon for awhile. I don’t recommend it.” 

“But if you keep following Lydia to the dead, I’d guess you’re a hellhound?”

Stiles and Lydia glanced at each other in surprise. “No, not like supernaturally follows her. She calls me. I’m just a boy who runs with the wolves,” he said with a sigh, then corrected, “Ran.” 

Rafe gave him a searching look. “If you hear the banshee’s cry you’re more than just human. That’s why banshee are so secretive,” and he looked intently at Lydia, “only supernaturals can hear your scream.” 

Her eyes widened catching on immediately. “So I can be used to locate them.” 

He nodded. “Be very careful who you tell,” he said, “I’m guessing that’s why you wanted to join the search party?”

“Yes,” Lydia said.

He nodded and looked thoughtful. “So Parrish is in the know?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said without elaborating. 

“Okay, I’m going to send you out with one of the junior agents to meet up with Parrish.” 

There was a shadow over the Preserve and Stiles couldn’t tell if it was just his imagination or if it was real. The junior agent had peeled away after they got to Parrish and the deputy had asked Stiles if he was sure he didn’t want to be somewhere else.

“I already know the worst.” Stiles said. “Now I just want to find him.” 

Parrish nodded and they set off. Lydia kept pausing and Stiles wondered what she was feeling, but he’d talked to her about it once and she’d dodged the question with what he suspected was a half truth. He was pretty sure she followed the voices of the dead.

She led them towards one of the old homesteads the county had pulled down when Preserve was created. She wandered under the century old fruit trees pausing occasionally before changing direction slightly.

“We’re close,” she said softly, then stopped and turned, looking uphill. “There,” she pointed at a concrete slab that was slightly ajar in the ground a few feet away. 

Stiles pushed at the slab, trying to get it out of the way, but it wasn’t until Parrish joined him that they shifted it off the hole, and revealed a dry well and the battered bloody body of Noah Stilinski at the bottom. Hands tied behind his back, and blood staining his clothes, the image burned itself into his mind.

Stiles slumped back, staring down at his father and started to cry, as Parrish got on the radio and called it in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I mostly write happier things. I’ll be back in a few days with the third chapter and it was the hardest to write.


	3. Chapter 3

When they made it back to the Martin house, Stiles pulled his laptop out of his bag and opened up his dad's online Audionotes account. Parrish mentioning the interviews at the school earlier in the day had given him an idea, and he wanted to check it out before he said anything to McCall.

His dad was a perfectionist and usually recorded even mundane conversations so he could listen to them again as he filled out his report, and his passwords were easy to guess if you knew the man well. Rafe has charged his dad's phone and he’d avoided giving the agent his dad’s passcode (the date of his parents first date) and Stiles knew the FBI was planning to send the phone to their lab to access it, so he needed to know if there was anything from the day before that had updated to his account. 

The site showed three uploads pending, and he clicked on the last one to start. He watched it start to buffer, and then the upload started, the timer read over six hours and his heart began to pound in his chest. When it was uploaded from his father's phone he downloaded a copy to the laptop. 

He had fallen into a zone of not thinking about his dad being dead, had sort of switched off the emotions with the help of the lingering effects of Lydia’s pill. He took a deep breath and pushed play. 

There was an indistinct background noise that Stiles couldn’t identify, and then he heard his dad's voice. _“Give the M.E. five minutes, alright?”_

Lydia walked into the bedroom and paused, a haunted look on her face when she heard the sheriff’s voice. 

Neither of them said anything as he heard more of the background noise. Maybe a radio or dispatch, he couldn’t tell. Then he heard his dad again, _“Come here,”_ and then a moment later he added, _“Where's Scott?”_

Theo’s voice was clear when he replied, _“He's looking for Liam. He thinks he's with Hayden.”_

_“Alright,”_ his dad said, _“I need a word with you. Just you.”_

The smirk was almost audible when Theo replied, _“Am I going to need a lawyer?”_

_“You tell me,”_ Noah said, _“Is there a reason you’d need one?”_

 _“Is this about Beth?”_ Theo asked.

_“No, I wanted to talk to you about the other night. Your keycard was used at the library the same night we had a 9-1-1 call. The only two cards used were yours and Stiles’.”_

There was a long moment before Theo replied, _“Stiles wasn't there.”_ Then his voice changed, growing confident again. _“But Donovan was. He was a Chimera. A Wendigo. He was looking for Stiles. He was going to kill him. Donovan said that he wanted to kill Stiles in front of you.”_

Lydia’s face was frozen as she listened, her eyes darting up to meet Stiles’.

_“When he saw me there instead, he tried to get me to tell him where Stiles was,”_ Theo finished. 

_“What did you tell him?”_

 _“Nothing,”_ Theo said. _“So he came at me. I tried to fight him off, but... All I kept thinking was that... I can't let him kill me. And I can't let him kill Stiles. I climbed up this scaffolding, but he started to drag me down.”_ Stiles flinched as the pitch of Theo’s voice changed, _“Then these support beams, they slid off the top. When I looked back, one of them had gone right through him.”_ He could hear Theo crying and his own eyes welled up, remembering the real panic and horror of that night. 

_“I didn't... I didn't know what to do. I dialed 9-1-1, but when the deputy got there, the body was gone. Even the blood. Everything was just... It was gone, and I didn't... I didn't know what to do. So I didn't do anything. I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do. So, I didn't... I didn't do anything.”_

There was no sound for a moment, and then he heard his dad say clearly, _“That doesn’t exactly match the story Stiles told me.”_

And Stiles' heart dropped, he knew what was coming and knew what had happened, not the details, but the inevitability. 

_“What did he tell you?”_ Theo said, and the sound of grief was gone from his voice.

_“I know he was there that night,”_ his dad said confidently, and Stiles had a moment of pride that his dad had listened when Stiles had explained how to lie to a werewolf. _“But he didn’t explain where the body went. Where they all keep going. But I think you know, don’t you Theo?”_

_“It’s Parrish that’s taking them,”_ Theo said. _“They figured it out a couple of days ago. He’s tied to the nemeton somehow.”_

 _“You’re the piece that doesn’t quite fit to me though Theo. I’ve been watching, and I’ve been listening, and you know more than you’re saying.”_

_“Sheriff,”_ Theo said, and Stiles heard his father gasp and a clang like he was shoved into something metal. _“I think it’s time I take care of this little problem. Fortunately for me, I’ve suspected for awhile I’d need to do this.”_

_“Theo, I don’t think you’ve thought this through,”_ his dad said, and Stiles could hear a hint of panic in his voice, _“you were on my list to talk to today, if I go missing you’ll be a suspect.”_

 _“I’m not going to kill you,”_ Theo said, _“Well, not right away. I’m just going to hurt you, and then I’ll put you somewhere they won’t find you. And while they’re looking, no one will be paying attention to what I’m doing.”_

Lydia slid onto the bed and leaned into Stiles, and he was surprised when he felt her wipe away his tears, he didn’t even realize he’d been crying, and he gripped the arm she had wrapped around him as the recording continued.

There was a gasp from the sheriff, and Theo said, _“There's an art to hurting someone enough to ensure they die later, but not enough that they die too soon. Fortunately I’ve had enough practice that I’ve become a bit of an expert.”_

There was a muffled clang and Stiles could hear a heavy sound, and realized it was a body hitting the floor. His dad. Things were quiet for a few minutes, the only thing he could hear was the sound of what might be footsteps occasionally. Then a loud bang that might be a car door or the trunk of a car. Then a sound that Stiles recognized as a car engine, which was the only sound for awhile. 

Eventually the car shut off, and he could hear the creak of the maybe door, and then another more distant sound. 

_“It’s too bad you couldn’t have been just a little dumber Sheriff,”_ he heard Theo say, _“Though I guess we see where Stiles gets his suspicious little brain from.”_

“I’m going to kill him,” Stiles said, voice hoarse and cold. 

“We will,” Lydia promised, pulling him closer. “We can stop-“ 

“No,” Stiles said softly. “I did this. I let it happen. I’ll listen.” 

_“What do you want here Theo?”_ his dad said. _“How does this get you to your endgame?”_

_“Sheriff, you’re so close, so close. Like I said, I see where Stiles gets that brain from! But like your stupid son you have the wrong end of things. I came for the werecoyote, whose first instinct is to kill. I came for the banshee, surrounded by death. I came for the dark kitsune with her anger issues, and I came for Void Stiles. That’s the pack I want. Unfortunately it doesn’t include Scott, cause I’m not interested in being a beta, I want to be the alpha.”_

_“You don’t understand the pack you claim you want if that’s how you see them,”_ Noah said. _“They’re good. They’re fighting to keep people safe. They would never follow an alpha like you.”_

 _“I hope you're wrong,”_ Theo said. _“Or else I’ll have to kill them too and start over.”_ Then they heard a grunt and a thud. _“Sorry it’s not more comfortable sheriff, but I can’t chance you being found.”_ The last line echoed through the recording and Stiles realized that the thud had been Theo pushing his dad down the well.

Then there was a sound like stone on stone, which Stiles realized was the cover of the well being replaced. 

The only sound for a few minutes was the sound of his father's breathing. 

_“Stiles,”_ his father said finally, _“I know you’re going to find this. Son, I don’t want you to go after Theo. The kid is dangerous. Let Argent handle it. Just leave this alone.”_

He was quiet for a few moments. _“I don’t think I’m going to make it back from this one,”_ he said. Then there was a cough. _“Son, I’m so proud of you. After the nogitsune, after everything, you’re a better man than I ever dreamed you’d need to be. I don’t want you to ever doubt your mom and I loved you more than anything.”_

_“I want you to get away from here. Get away from this town,”_ his dad said after a minute. _“Find a life that’s not death and terror all the time.”_

There was several minutes of silence, and Stiles could tell his dad’s breathing was getting shallower. 

_“I don’t want you to listen to the end,”_ his dad said. _“I don’t want that to be your last memory of me. I love you son.”_ After a moment he heard his dad start to sing to him softly. He recognized the old Beatles song that he knew had played at his parent’s wedding, that his mom had always called ‘their song’ with a laugh, and Stiles realized he’d never be able to get the story of why out of his dad. 

He listened until the humming stopped, Lydia holding onto him tightly. Eventually the breathing grew more and more shallow until he couldn’t hear it anymore and he reached over and paused the recording.

“Are you still going to kill him?” Lydia asked. 

“Yes.” 

“The recording points right at you.” 

“I know,” he said. He stared at the screen for several long moments and deleted the file from his father's account. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should apologize for this. The original draft was longer and more... more. But it was terrible to write and slow and I finally decided to roll back and write it this way, which I think works better. I can’t say ‘hope you enjoyed it’ but yeah. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are Life of course.


	4. Chapter 4

The plan was simple, a modification of a plan he’d been putting together in the back of his head since his own stay at Eichen. 

Lydia had been the one to suggest it, but Stiles had agreed instantly. There was really only one person they knew who might be both sympathetic to his need for revenge and helpful in planning a murder. 

So now Stiles was waiting for Kira to do her thing to the lights and generator of the asylum. When he saw the lights go out inside Eichen House, he and Lydia ran towards the doors. Glancing through the doorway he watched the front desk person scurry through a side door, and they slipped inside unnoticed. The main doors were unlocked and once through they darted down a side passageway and into an office. Unfortunately the office wasn’t empty.

“Who are you?” the hulking man demanded, getting to his feet, and Stiles groaned. Things had been going so well for the first two minutes.

“Seriously, why are you guys all so big?” Stiles complained stepping a little closer to distract from where his hands were. “Brunski was huge, you’re huge. Do they only hire giant oafs here? Can’t we get someone I can physically overpower just once?” Then Stiles rushed forward and slammed the tranquilizer dart into the man’s neck, and a moment later the guy collapsed. “Huh,” he said, looking impressed. “I’ve seen that done so many times, I can’t believe it worked.” He grinned in surprise as he reached down and unclipped the man’s badge.

“Melvin Banks. Sounds like a serial killer name. Hmmm, Special Residents Division.” Stiles looked around. “Lydia, what are the chances something actually went right for once?”

“Our luck had to turn eventually I suppose,” she said. 

A book caught his eye and he pulled it off the shelf and paged it open. “Okay. Now I’m sad we didn’t come prepared to take all these. This is on kanima. Oh hey, yikes Derek wasn’t kidding about that evolution, that is really terrifying. And you kissed that? So gross.” He shook his head, slipped the book back in the case, and grabbed the man’s keys instead. 

“And of course no rope. How did I forget rope,” he muttered, then improvised with the cord of a mouse from the computer. “Now stay there,” he told the unconscious man. 

He glanced out the door both ways and they slipped over to the stairwell, and he was relieved to find the door unlocked when he pushed on it. They walked through and started downstairs. When they got to the first basement he took a deep breath and they slipped through into the normally locked ward. There was a manual release button beside the door and he looked at Lydia, “Stay here and let us out when we come back?” 

“Be careful,” she said, hugging him. 

“Ten minutes,” he said looking at his watch, then hit the button and slipped inside, the door closing behind him with a clang.

He rushed down the hall, and slid to a stop when he heard his name.

“Well if it isn’t Stiles Stilinkski here, yet again.” He turned, recognizing Valack’s voice. “Let me out,” the man added, “and I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Yeah no, you psycho.” 

“You want to kill the dread doctors,” Valack said. “That’s trickier than you’d think. But I can tell you how.” 

“How about you tell me, and if it works I’ll come back for you,” Stiles said. 

The man looked at him closely. “It’s harder to tell if you’re lying now that you’ve come into your power,” Valack said. “Fine. You’ve always struck me as a man of your word. The secret is in the frequency they use. That’s the real secret to their strength. Neutralize that and they’re easy to deal with. And the frequency is tied to the convergence of leylines and telluric currents. So you need to find a way to interrupt that. You can use Mountain ash mixed with high grade strontium ferrite to trap them for awhile. And wolfsbane and mistletoe will overcome their supernaturally borrowed healing.” He smiled. “Now don’t forget me.” 

“I definitely won’t forget you if it doesn’t work,” Stiles said, then glanced at his watch. “Fuck, I’ve got to go!” 

“Yes, you should move along. And give Peter my regards,” Valack said. “If he lives.” 

Stiles gave him a look.

“You better hurry. He won’t have long,” Valack said and Stiles started to run. He saw someone coming out of one of the cells and relocking the door, with a package of some sort in his hand. The man looked up, and Stiles thought, ‘Of course, another giant.’ Then he slammed into the guy and knocked him down, stabbing him with a second tranquilizer dart. He glanced into the cell and saw Peter on the floor, and the ozone scent of electricity hung in the air, while the tell-tale hints of purple dust on Peter’s shirt terrified him.

The man on the ground rolled over and tried to get up, fighting the tranq more than the first guy, but Stiles slammed his head back into the ground and he felt something give slightly as the man went slack. He stepped back and realized the man had stopped breathing.

“Oh fuck,” Stiles breathed, but before he could start to panic he thought of the time and shook his head. He was here for Peter. He had to save him. He grabbed the bag of powder, confirming from experience the look of Wolfsbane powder, then took the man’s keys and shock stick.

Stiles glanced behind him as he fumbled through the dead man’s keys, he tried the next one, and finally found the one to work on the physical lock.

“Peter!” he shouted, coming through the door.

Peter didn’t move and Stiles rolled him into his back, a faint hint of Wolfsbane could be seen around his mouth and he realized it had been forced inside. He scrambled for the half empty package he’d taken off the orderly. With shaking hands he sprinkled some into the floor and pulling the lighter out of his pocket, set the dried powder on fire. 

“Please let this work,” he said softly, and sliced down the werewolf’s arm with his knife and shoved some of the ash into it, holding it in place. He could feel the slow rhythm of Peter’s heartbeat through his hands. “Please,” he said again, concentrating. “Live.” And suddenly Peter gasped and his eyes flew open, a glorious vivid glowing blue as his claws and fangs burst forth and he roared, while he convulsed off of the floor, spewing black vomit. Stiles let go of his arm and stepped back, watching the last of the cut on his arm heal over. 

Peter blinked and wiped his mouth as he looked around, closing his eyes and opening them again as the claws and fangs retracted. “Stiles?” he said, blinking again.

“Hey zombie wolf,” Stiles said. “How about we get you out of here.” 

“You are perhaps the second to last person I was expecting,” Peter said, slowly standing up. “Third to last if we include Miss Martin.” 

“I aim to surprise,” Stiles replied, looking at his watch. “But seriously, if you can move a little faster we only have a few minutes before they get the backup generator back online.” 

“I’m curious what you did to shut it down,” Peter said.

“Kira zapped it,” Stiles said with a shrug. “And Lydia and I took out the first creepy orderly dude. And I killed this guy, though maybe don’t tell anyone that part?”

“He shocked me, then forced me to eat something. Wolfsbane I assume. So tedious.” 

“Cmon creeperwolf, we need to move.” He grabbed Peter and pulled him into the hall, dropping the bag of powder back beside the dead man, and then they started running back towards where he’d left Lydia at the main entrance. When they got there she hit the emergency release and they stepped out.

“Anyone?” Stiles asked.

“No. I could hear them up on the regular patient floors, but he was the only one working here tonight I think.” 

“Ms Martin,” Peter said. “You are my second shock of the evening. Though of course, it’s always a pleasure to see you again. The outfit, however, isn’t up to your usual standards.”

“Don’t make me regret this Peter,” Lydia said. “Breaking you out was probably a terrible idea but I still know how to set you on fire in less than five minutes.” 

“You’re a remarkable creature,” Peter said smiling, “But I’d prefer to avoid that fate. Again. Besides, that would probably interfere with your friend's plan. I’m assuming I’m needed?” 

“Stiles needs you. I’m just here for backup.” 

“Intriguing,” Peter said. “Well, we can talk later, how do we get out?” 

“We wait,” Stiles said. “When the power comes back up, the psycho’s keycard will work again, and can just swipe our way out while everyone is still confused.” He pulled a hoodie out of the bag and thrust it at Peter. “Now hide your face, we don’t want to be identifiable on camera.” 

“What shall we talk about while we wait?” Peter asked. “Not that I’m not charmed to see you both, but maybe an explanation, loathe as I am to look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth.” 

Stiles glanced at Lydia who nodded slightly. 

“I need help killing someone,” Stiles admitted. 

“Yes, that seemed obvious since the True Alpha hasn’t joined you and you came to me and not Derek.” 

“Derek’s still in Mexico with Braeden,” Stiles said, “I don’t even think he knows you’re here.” 

Peter stilled. “I thought he-“ he nodded, “no I guess he probably wouldn’t. He’d kill me again himself before leaving me in this place. So who are we killing? It’s disappointing, but I’m sure it’s not the True Alpha. And I’m confident it’s not my daughter since I doubt even you think that poorly of me. So maybe some new villain. Unless Gerard has finally resurfaced?” 

“I thought Gerard was dead,” Lydia said.

“Sadly no,” Peter said. “Chris has been keeping tabs on him but he’s still quite alive. Still spewing a river of black goo though which fills me with a certain pleasure. But I just haven’t been able to track him down. The Argents are-“ he paused for a moment, “very good at keeping things hidden.”

Stiles and Lydia exchanged glances. 

“Scott knows he’s alive,” Peter added. “Following him to one of his little meet-ups with Argent is how I found out. I had hoped that dear Kate was going to lead me to him, but she never did sadly. Has anyone killed her yet, by the way?”

“Not that I’ve heard.” The lights flickered on overhead. “Time to move,” Stiles added and checked that the three remaining tranquilizer pens remained in his hoodie pocket, before surging forward with Lydia and Peter behind him. He swiped the keycard at the stairwell and they followed him as they wound back up towards the ground floor. 

Stiles looked through the doors out of the stairwell, “Looks clear,” he said. A couple of floors up he could hear voices descending the stairs and he swiped them through into the main hallway. He glanced back towards the office where the orderly’s body lay. But they turned towards the main entrance. 

They made it through reception which was empty, though they could hear voices in the back room, and then they were outside and out through the gates onto the street.

“Which way?” Peter asked 

“That way. But wait one second.” Stiles watched the horizon closely and a moment later he saw the flash and heard the boom of the mortar in the distance. “Okay, Kira and Malia are safe,” Stiles said in relief.

“Clever,” Peter said. “Loud but clever.” 

“Kira likes things that go bang,” Lydia said. “So it’s what we had on hand.” 

They jogged back down the block to the stolen car and Stiles got back in the driver seat, turning the key, and as soon as everyone was settled pulled off the curb and drove back towards the school. 

They drove in silence, Peter surprisingly joining them in it. A block from the school Stiles pulled over and parked before stashing the keys under the seat and shutting the doors. When they got to the school they stood around Lydia’s car for a moment, hesitating. 

“I’m assuming you’re planning to explain everything?” Peter asked.

“My house I guess,” Stiles said quietly, looking at Lydia. “The loft might not be safe, but I’ve got mountain ash around the house, plus motion detectors.”

“He has a key?” Lydia asked.

“I know Scott has one,” Stiles said. “I don’t know if he made Theo a copy.” 

They got in the car and Lydia drove them in silence to Stiles’ home. When they pulled up, the house was dark, no light waiting to greet him. He got out of the passenger seat and stared up at it, a fresh wave of grief hitting him.

He caught Peter watching him carefully as he emptied the mailbox, four days worth of mail making quite a stack, and they followed him up the steps where he hesitated again before unlocking the door. 

The slight hint of his dad’s aftershave still floated on the air, and he knew that it would only persist for another day or so. Had probably only persisted this long since the house had sat undisturbed. He turned and led them into the living room.

“What’s happened to your father, Stiles?” Peter said in a voice so tender it was almost unrecognizable. 

“He’s dead,” Stiles said, fresh tears threatening to break loose.

“This was why you needed me.” 

“Yes.” 

“Good enough,” Peter said, turning. “Let’s get started. Who are we killing?” He hesitated for a moment, before he turned back to Stiles, “I’m not who anyone would seek sympathy from, but I am actually sorry for your loss. He was your family, and probably a better man than this city deserved.” 

Stiles nodded then said, “You’ll help?” almost disbelievingly.

“You didn’t think I would?” Peter asked, and Stiles turned to look at him. 

“I wasn’t sure,” Stiles admitted. 

“I may not have any use for Scott, but you I’ve always liked Stiles. And besides, revenge is, in my opinion, perhaps the finest motive for murder.”

Stiles nodded and dropped the mail on the table, sorting through it and pulling out the few important things from the junk mail. Nothing he needed to deal with today, but soon enough. He shoved the junk mail to the side. “Where to start? See this guy, Theo, showed up the first week of school. He wanted to be part of the pack, claimed to remember Scott and me from fourth grade, and was a werewolf now. But I remember Theo from grade school, and this guy wasn’t him.” Stiles sighed. “I tried to get Scott to listen but Theo was all ‘True Alpha this’ and ‘I want to be pack’, and Scott wouldn’t listen to me, and I-“ he paused, “things were bad,” he confessed, glancing guiltily at Lydia. “I wasn’t sleeping. Haven’t been for awhile really except that Lydia’s been drugging me for the last three nights. I was starting to hallucinate. Lose time. I started to think the nogitsune was back.” He said the last part quietly.

“That’s probably the sleep deprivation,” Lydia said. “I wondered what was going on. But sleep deprivation can cause psychotic episodes and hallucinations. You haven’t had them the last couple of days.”

“That’s not all,” Stiles said softly, struggling to get out the most damning part. “I’m changing. Healing faster. And I think I’m stronger than a human. Like I was before. And-“ something he’d heard struck him, “Valack said something. But I’m not sure what it means.”

“As strong as a werewolf?” 

“Not that strong. But I got bit on the shoulder by this creepy chimera dude and the bite healed overnight.” 

“And you’re sure it’s not one of the hallucinations?” 

“Yeah, the blood was still on my shirt the next day,” Stiles said nodding, “plus Malia saw it.” 

“And the strength?” Peter asked. 

“I threw Theo up against a fence on the roof of the hospital and held him there while I threatened him,” Stiles said. “Not like full werewolf strength, but definitely more than human.” 

Peter was quiet but he had a contemplative look, while Lydia said, “Did he seem surprised?” 

“No,” Stiles answered, realizing he’d missed that. “He seemed-“ he hesitated, “almost happy. In control. Unafraid.” 

“So he thinks Stiles has supernatural tendencies already,” Peter said, clearly thinking about something.

“The nogitsune.” Lydia’s voice was low but intense. “He mentioned it in passing once.” 

“So he thinks the nogitsune wasn’t banished, but controlled. He’s a foolish child, but that’s useful,” Peter said. “Who can we trust? Do we have allies?” 

“Malia,” Lydia said, at the same time Stiles said, “Liam.”

“That could be a good team,” Peter said. “Is this chimera you mentioned going to be a problem?” And that question led to Stiles and Lydia explaining the chimeras and Dread Doctors and the weeks since school started back up.

“Aside from me not trusting a single word Adrian Valack said,” Peter almost growled, “I find the timing of this Theo’s arrival coinciding with these Dread Doctors to be-“ he paused, “suspect.” He looked at Stiles, “Are you sure he’s not one of these chimeras?”

Stiles stilled and thought for a moment. “I’m not actually,” he said. “Tracy crossed the mountain ash without a problem. We could-“ he paused, “I could test it. See if he can cross a line.” 

“A double feint,” Peter mused. “Ask him to meet you. Be in the ash circle, Liam, Malia, and I can wait and listen from a distance, close enough to intervene, but not so he can tell we’re there. If he can’t cross the ash then fine, but if he can, you’ll need to be able to break it without touching it.” 

“I can. I’ve always been able to do it without touching, but I’ve been practicing with it at a distance since the alpha pack.” 

“Excellent,” Peter replied. “It’s too bad we sold the old Hale House property on the preserve, it would be an excellent choice for this. No matter, we have others.” 

Stiles snorts. “How much of this town do you own Peter?” 

“Enough,” Peter said. “Which is fortunate in this case.” 

“So why did Derek live in the damn train station for four months when he got to town?” 

“Hiding from hunters probably. It’s what we’re taught, to hide. Though I won’t deny the distinct possibility he was just punishing himself. Notice that even with plenty of money he’s still never fixed the hole in the wall of that depressing loft.” 

Stiles nodded, “Okay. That actually makes sense.” 

“Shall we invite Liam and Malia to join us tonight?” Peter asked.

“No,” Lydia said. “We do it tomorrow. Tell them at the last minute so there’s no chance someone accidentally tells Scott or Theo something. But how do we distract Scott?” 

Stiles thought of the bag of mountain ash under his bed. “Leave that to me,” he said. 

“Tomorrow I’ll find a convenient and discreet meeting place. I’ll give you the address and we’ll arrange your little tete-a-tete,” Peter said with a smile. “Lovely. I don’t suppose either of you would be willing to drop me at my apartment? I’m sure my plants are dead, but I’d really prefer to sleep in my own bed in my own pajamas.” 

“I’m trying to imagine Peter Hale in pajamas,” Lydia said. 

“If you’d like to stay I’ll show you,” Peter said with a knowing little smile.

“Let me just pack my bag and I’ll bring my favorite tea,” Lydia said with deepest sarcasm and a withering glare.

Peter laughed. “There’s nothing like planning a murder to bring a pack together.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually the second chapter of this story I wrote in draft form, and it’s essentially unchanged except a little editing. It’s certainly the clearest scene I had when I started this. 
> 
> I love the idea of a dark!Stiles and Peter as murderbros and about the only time I’ll read Steter as a ship is if the story promises me that. 
> 
> I’d like to say it all gets better from here, but really, there’s at least two more deaths to come. Let me know what you think, comments and kudos keep me going.


	5. Chapter 5

By five-thirty in the evening Stiles was already done with a day that was spent with Peter working out the plan for the night, and then with Agent McCall, to first distract the man from the real agenda, and then trying to circumvent the one detail of his father’s will that he was certain about and most dreading, his guardianship until his 18th birthday. 

Finally, after nearly an hour of discussion he’d gotten the agent on board and Stiles had arrived where he now was - done with the day that was not nearly over, preparing to see his ex-best friend. And then killing a werewolf. 

“Hey Scott,” Stiles said when his former friend walked in the McCall kitchen. He tossed the handful of mountain ash and willed the circle to fall around Scott, feeling the slight shock like electricity as it fell into a perfect circle around him.

“Stiles!” Scott said in surprise, as he pushed against the circle and bounced back. “What are you doing?” He sounded furious, and Stiles accepted that was reasonable. 

“I have a couple of things to say, and then some things to do, and I didn’t want you getting in the way,” Stiles said, fingering the old MP3 player in his hand. 

“I know what this is about. You think Theo killed your dad,” Scott said, “but you’re just weirdly obsessed with the guy. He was with me all evening until after we heard Lydia scream.” 

“I know he was, Scott. And he probably loved listening to you accuse me of murder, and your nice dig at telling me to go talk to my dad. Which was really ironic since my dad was already securely hidden away and dying in a well in the Preserve. Or wait, I suppose you think I killed him too? Just another notch on my belt of murder. Donovan, my dad, you probably blame me for Allison and Aiden too.” 

“Stiles, I know that was the nogitsune. And I know you haven’t been doing well. It’s been hard on you, everything lately. I know you wouldn’t hurt your dad,” Scott said.

“Everything lately,” Stiles echoed back. “Is that what we’re calling it? My dad dies and it’s just, ‘everything lately.’” He set the MP3 player down. “I thought you were my brother Scott. I thought it was us against the world. But apparently it’s you and Theo. I know Malia and Liam are avoiding you. Lydia’s still horrified about you mind-raping Cory. So I thought I’d leave you alone to listen in to your so-called friend’s actions that afternoon.” Stiles pressed play on the MP3 player. “My dad-” Stiles said, tearing up when the man’s voice came out of the tiny speaker, “he liked his reports to be detailed, so he recorded everything and then played it back while he wrote his reports. You should hear this. I’m sure you’ll excuse me since I don’t want to hear it again. Don’t worry I’ll let your mom know where you are so she can let you out after it’s over.” 

“Stiles!” Scott shouted, “LET ME OUT!” The roar filled the room. 

“Relax Scott. You said yourself it wasn’t Theo that killed my dad. If you’re so certain you’re right, I’m not sure what there is for you to get so angry about. Would you prefer I gave this to your mom to listen to?” Stiles didn’t wait for a reply and turned and walked back out, dropping his key beside the door as he left. 

The place Peter found was perfect. Another part of the undeveloped land against the Preserve, not close to where Hale House had stood, but not far from the town either. Stiles found the circle Peter had cut down into the soil and pulled the bag of mountain ash out of his backpack and started filling in the circle. He kept the visualization in his mind as the circle poured out, and he felt the buzz and click when it snapped into place. He stepped over the line, deeply relieved that it didn’t try to stop him. He dropped his bat and backpack and sat down cross legged to wait. 

His phone pinged with a message from Peter to let him know they were in place, and he glanced at his watch again. He wasn’t even surprised when Theo showed up almost twenty minutes early.

“Stiles,” Theo said, a gleam of something Stiles had never trusted in his eye. “I’m sorry to hear about your dad. I know you don’t trust me, but I didn’t have anything to do with it, I was with Scott all night.” 

“I know you were, Theo,” Stiles said, standing up in the center of the circle. “I also know you talked to my dad at the school. And then talked to him again after that in the locker room, where you told him you killed Donovan.” 

Theo’s face lost its constant air of amusement, and the predator inside slid to the surface. 

“There we go. There’s the real Theo,” Stiles said with a satisfied smile. “It must have been tough for you, knowing I wouldn’t trust your facade, and Scott wouldn’t trust what you really are.” 

“You’ve got it all figured out don’t you?” Theo said, his eyes dark and his attention fixed. “So what’s your plan?” 

“I wanted to talk,” Stiles said. “What was your plan? I mean, kill Scott and you know the rest of us would kill you. Break the pack up and none of us are useful.” 

“Stiles, I never lied. I wanted the pack. The dark kitsune, the coyote, the banshee surrounded by death, and you Stiles. God, Void Stiles, that brain always working, always plotting, a thousand plans, when you threw me against that fence at the hospital I was so fucking horny. I wanted to fuck you there in his blood. Or you could fuck me, I’m flexible. So much power! And tied to an idiot like McCall?” 

“Void is gone,” Stiles said. “All that’s left is Stiles. And you really think I’d let the guy who killed my dad go?” 

“How’d you know?” Theo said. “Nothing has shaken your certainty I killed him.” 

“He recorded everything,” Stiles said, pushing play on the second MP3 player, and letting it play for a moment before turning it off. “You tied his hands and never even bothered to take his phone.”

“So what’s your plan here?” Theo said. 

“This,” Stiles said flinging the last handful of ash into a circle tight around Theo, who just laughed.

“God Stiles, I’m really going to regret killing you,” Theo said. “Except you missed one little detail.” Theo stepped outside of the small circle around him and then stepped into the bigger circle holding Stiles. 

“You’re a chimera,” Stiles said, impressed that Peter had seen it so clearly, in spite of himself.

“You don’t seem surprised,” Theo said. 

“I didn’t actually say what the plan was,” Stiles said, hoping he’d given his friends enough time, and he willed the mountain ash back into its bag, just as Liam and Malia broke into view.

“Well played,” Theo said, turning and shifting as Liam threw himself forward. Stiles grabbed his bat and swung it around aiming for Theo’s spine as Liam distracted him. He felt the bat shudder as it connected with the chimera. When he pulled it away it was bent slightly and Theo dropped to the ground gasping just as Malia got there.

“Well that was anticlimactic.” Peter said from behind him, and Stiles turned. 

“We’re not done yet,” Stiles said, pulling the heavy syringe out of his backpack. 

Peter shuddered at the sight and Stiles knelt and plunged it into Theo’s shoulder. 

“The fuck,” the chimera said.

“Essence of Wolfsbane and mistletoe,” Stiles said. “Lethal to werewolf or human, so it should work on a chimera too.” He looked down at Theo. “This, by the way, was the plan.” He looked around at Liam and Malia and Peter, his pack. “You might have succeeded in separating us from Scott, but not from each other. The pack lives.” 

He looked up as a truck drove carefully through the leaves. And he smiled sadly as Lydia pulled up to them and got out. Malia shifted and ran off into the trees to scout the perimeter for what was to come.

“So he was a chimera,” she said.

“Peter was right,” Stiles said.

“I usually am,” Peter said, kicking at Theo’s foot. “We should probably do this now before his spine heals.” 

Stiles took his bat and began beating Theo, breaking his arms as the chimera screamed begging for him to stop, when he’d exhausted himself he handed the bat to Liam, “I think it’s your turn next,” he said.

Liam’s eyes flashed and he said, “For Hayden.” 

The screams kept up as Lydia and Stiles opened the large porcelain lined metal storage container in the back of the truck and started to pour in the containers inside. “Red first, then yellow. The green after he’s in there,” she said. Liam stopped beating on Theo behind them, and a moment later Peter and Liam dropped the broken but still living body of the chimera into the liquid facedown.

They poured the green solvent in and the liquid bath started to foam around the body. 

“Out of curiosity,” Peter asked, “will he die from the drowning or poisoning from the fumes?”

“Drowning,” Lydia said. “The acid smells terrible, but in a couple of days the body will be gone. I’m working on getting the chemicals to neutralize it so it can be disposed of safely. But it’ll take a few days.” 

“I’m not sure if I should be impressed or horrified that you had them on hand,” Stiles said. 

“Relieved,” she said in a clipped tone. “And unsurprised. I’ve assumed this day was coming for awhile. I’m not Scott. I didn’t have a problem killing Peter then,” and she glanced at Peter who sighed, “and I have no problem killing Theo now.” 

The property had an old house on it that was long condemned and boarded up, but Peter had gotten the garage open and they’d pulled the truck in and dropped the container off. They made sure the place was secure again and Stiles looked at his watch and sighed. 

“I need to make a call,” he said, and wandered off to the side of the house. He selected Melissa’s cell number and pressed call. She answered on the second ring.

“Stiles?” she said, “Honey, what’s wrong?” 

“You always know when something’s wrong,” he said with a smile. 

“If you call it’s a problem, if you text you’re in trouble, and if it’s something good you show up in person,” she said, “You’re not that subtle.” 

“So, I know you’re going to lunch soon,” he said.

“Oh god I’m really not going to like this.” 

“I left you a lunch in your fridge at home. I also might have trapped Scott in a mountain ash circle to make him stay still and listen to something, so since I know you like my lasagna it’s there if you go let him out.” 

“STILES!” she shouted, “Anything could have happened.” 

“Scott and I sort of broke up, so it was sort of my best option,” Stiles confessed. 

She sighed. “Fine. I’ll let him out. But you and I are going to have words tomorrow mister,” she said. 

“I’ll come by the hospital,” he promised. 

“Come after 11. It should be quiet by then.” 

“Thanks Melissa,” he said sincerely. “Also, he’s probably going to need a hug. What I left him, it was pretty brutal.” 

“Jesus kid. Okay.” She hung up and he wiped away the tears that had started to fall again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You thought I forgot you yesterday, I did not. I did, however, forget yesterday was yesterday. And by the time I realized it was after midnight and I’d made a few minor charges I wanted my beta readers opinion on. But here it is. 
> 
> Remember comments and kudos are life, and I am a life-sucking vampire. This metaphor may have escaped me.


	6. Chapter 6

Rafe was as good as his word and Stiles got the phone call just after ten that the judge could fit him into the day's docket that afternoon. He texted Lydia and Peter, then spent the rest of the morning cleaning out the fridge and making sure the kitchen was ready for him to leave. 

He thought he’d feel different once Theo was dead. But the loss was still just as strong, and the anger at Scott and Theo wasn’t diminished at all. He realized that while revenge was as hollow as his father had always said, there was still a relief in the threat being eliminated instead of postponed, though he didn’t feel any safer or less alone.

Just after two he took a shower and put on a tailored black suit Peter had dropped off. It fit perfectly and he wasn’t at all surprised. Peter arrived just before three, and Stiles grabbed the pile of documents he’d stayed up late gathering, locked the door and walked out to the ridiculous sports car. 

“Is it just you and Laura, or are the sports cars a family thing?” Stiles asked. “I know why Derek got the FJ, it’s ugly but practical for everything that was going on at the time, which sort of screams Derek to be honest.” 

“I have werewolf senses and reflexes,” Peter replied, “I like having a car that can respond as quickly as I do.” 

“And you like fast cars.” 

Peter smirked, “And I like fast cars.”

“Do you know Judge Stapleton?” Stiles asked. 

“No, I’ve never had any family court dealings,” Peter said, “But I’ve asked around and he’s got a reputation as a reasonable man, you should be fine.” 

“He doesn’t have to grant emancipation,” Stiles said. “My dad kept most of everything that happened out of reports. But I’m in a lot of records if he looks, plus there’s Jackson and his stupid restraining order.” 

“It’ll be fine,” Peter said. “The worst case scenario is he denies your request and Melissa is your guardian for the next year. You know she’s reasonable.” 

“I’m not sure how reasonable she’s going to be after I trapped Scott in a mountain ash circle for three hours.” 

“And then called her and told her you’d done it,” Peter said. “She might be mad but I think she’ll get over it.” 

“I just want this over with,” Stiles said. “This. The funeral. Everything.” 

Peter patted his shoulder lightly with his free hand. 

The office just down the hall from the courtroom was surprisingly small, and clearly saw a lot of use. The judge was seated at a conference table instead of a desk, and Peter and Stiles slid into chairs across from him when he motioned them too.

“Stiles, I’m Martin Stapleton. I don’t think we’ve ever met but I did know your father, his loss is a great one, I’m truly sorry,” the man said. “I got a call from special agent McCall asking me to fit you in this week. Your dad's attorney couriered over a copy of his will and directives this morning so I could look over them.” 

“Thank you, your honor.” Stiles said. 

“Just call me Martin, I’m not particularly formal outside the courtroom,” the judge said. “I was glad to be able to help out.” He opened a folder, “According to your dad's wishes if something happened to him before your 18th birthday he’d directed you to be put into the care of a Melissa Delgado McCall, but both Agent McCall-“ and the judge paused to glance up at him, “any relation?” 

“They’re divorced,” Stiles said. 

“Interesting. Is this a proxy battle between them?” 

“No. They’re my ex-best friend’s parents. As close to family as I have left.” 

“But you are asking for emancipation instead of a guardianship?” 

“I’m not sure after what happened that I want to stay in Beacon Hills. Honestly I’m not sure I can stay here, and it wouldn’t be fair to put Melissa in that position,” Stiles said. “Plus, those decisions were made when Scott and I were still best friends, and since our falling out, which agent McCall is fully aware of, it would be a hostile environment though not due to anything Melissa would intend.” 

The judge nodded. “And I see that you’ve requested that if guardianship is required you’d prefer it to be Peter Hale is that correct?” 

“That’s correct yes,” Stiles said. 

“Hmmm,” the man said, flipping to the next page. “In addition, it appears your father served as legal guardian for your grandfather, Elias. He left instructions that you were to receive guardianship whether before or after your own majority.” The judge pursed his lips, “I think if your father judged you fit to be responsible for his own father, he’d trust you with your own care as well. I’m going to grant you conditional emancipation. With these stipulations. First, I expect you to finish high school, and maintain your GPA. I know it will be tough but your education is still important. Second, I expect to see you once a month for a check in. You can schedule it with my clerk. And third, if you are going to be traveling out of the state, you let me know.” 

Stiles thought for a moment, then said, “That seems fair. I was thinking about going away for a few days, maybe a week. To clear my head. I’ve already talked to the school, they were very understanding.” 

“That’s fine,” Martin said. “Everyone grieves in their own way. Let me know when you return to town.” The judge signed a piece of paper and slipped it into the folder and set it aside, then looked up, “That’s it. You can go.” 

Stiles was startled. “That was-“ he paused, “a lot faster than I expected.” 

Martin smiled slightly. “Well, I’m going to expect Agent McCall to check in with you regularly as well, and if there’s any problems I can rescind this, so don’t screw up. I need to get my docket back on schedule, but I’ll see you in a month.” He reached out and shook Stiles’s hand.

————

Stiles parked his dad’s 4Runner and turned off the engine. School wouldn’t be out for an hour, and Melissa didn’t go to work for two more hours, so this was his best time to see her. He grabbed the folder beside him, all the information he’d managed to pull together on what Valack had told him about the Dread Doctors.

It took several moments after he knocked before she opened the door. “Stiles?” she said, clearly surprised. 

“Hey Melissa.” 

She gave him a close look, and something she saw must have meant something to her, and she pulled him close, “I listened, last night after Scott told me what happened. I’m so sorry about your dad. I know how hard it can be to get my son to listen when his mind is made up.”

His heart broke again under the reminder, and he wrapped his arms around her in a hesitant hug. After a long time she let him go. 

“I can’t apologize,” he finally said, looking at her. “I needed Scott to hear. To not-“ he paused, “to not argue with what I was trying to tell him.” 

She nodded. “He was so angry when I got here. At you. At Theo. Just, angry.” 

“Yeah, I know that feeling.” 

“Come in,” she said. 

He followed her into the living room and they sat down. 

“Is there a way to fix this?” she asked.

Stiles had asked himself the same question a hundred times., and just shook his head. “He let the enemy in the door. I don’t know how to forgive that, and I’m not Scott, I’ve never been good at forgiving. How am I supposed to forgive him? How do I learn to do that?”

“You don’t have to right away. But he’s trying to save everyone, and that’s a hard thing. Maybe think about giving him a second chance, not right away, but someday?”

“I don’t have any second chances left to give. Because-“ he paused, “Scott’s not the one who pays for his idealism. He never is. It’s me, it’s my dad, it’s Allison. It’s everyone around him. It’s all the humans around him. I just can’t do it anymore. I did this to keep him safe, and to keep the people I loved safe, but dad’s gone now. And I can’t not blame him.” 

“I love you kid.” 

“I love you too.” He said. “so much. I-“ he hesitated then continued, “The reason I came today is I know about dad’s will. We talked about it once. And I saw a judge. He granted my emancipation, I’m going to get out of town for a week or two, just to clear my head. And I’ll check in, I promise. At least every few days. It’s not forever. Just until I can breath again.” 

He handed over the file, “Scott’s going to figure this out, but I got Peter out of Eichen. And while I was there I talked to Valack. Scott knows who he is. And this is everything I have on the Dread Doctors. I don’t trust Valack, but I looked into what he said, and Danny is supposed to be getting me some information about the telluric currents he has, so I’ll send that to Scott when I get it, I hope it helps.” 

She nodded. “I’ll give him this. Take care of yourself first. Scott’s a smart kid, he’ll get this figured out. He’ll deal with it.” She hesitated, “Why Peter? I know you guys don’t trust him-“ 

“I don’t trust him exactly. But I know where I stand with him. He’s not a good guy, he doesn’t care about being good. He’ll do the things that need doing. He would have killed Gerard sophomore year, rather than deal with the psycho hunters and kanima and everything. And I’m not sure how I feel about that, except there’s people who’d be alive if we had. Trying to save everyone including the bad guys hasn’t worked. Maybe keeping the people we care about safe is better than doing the right thing.”

“You know you’re not the only one who lost your dad right?” 

“I know, but you know what else I know? That everyone else who lost him gets to go home to their family at the end of the day. But I don’t. I get to go home to a house that’s empty. My only living relative left is a guy who can barely remember his name on a bad day, and if it’s a good day and he recognizes me he’ll just sneer and call me a waste of space.” 

“You’ll always be family here. Even if you and Scott aren’t-“ she hesitated, “even if.” 

“Thanks Melissa,” he said softly as he got back up. “I should go. He and I, we need some space. Some time.” 

“Keep in touch kid,” she said with shining eyes.

“I will,” he promised as he paused by the door. “I will.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter very much feels like the calm port between two big chapters, so buckle up! 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are life:-)


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles had been dodging the calls from the Chronicle for days, but Peter had finally convinced him to talk to them so they stopped filling up his voicemail. So he spent the morning with his father's lawyer and then with an accountant Peter had recommended who had helped him sort out what still needed to be immediately and what could wait. After that, he picked up the many copies of the death certificate he’d need for the bank and insurance and social security and everyone else who would need one, and once that was finished he found himself at the Chronicle’s office, talking to the same reporter he’d almost punched once during his father’s suspension. 

The reporter was kinder than he expected, and barely pressed for details of his father's death, concentrating mostly on the plans for the funeral service.

The funeral that Stiles had been avoiding thinking about. 

Stiles told the reporter the truth, he was still deciding what kind of service his father would want, and the funeral would be delayed a couple of weeks to allow people to make travel plans. 

He didn’t add that the travel plans in question were his own.

When he left the Chronicle, he climbed back in the 4Runner and sat there a moment, exhausted by it all. He had feared this very thing since his mother’s death, and now that it had arrived it was like he couldn’t breathe. He remembered a conversation he’d had with Morrell where she’d advised him to just keep going, but he wasn’t sure he could anymore. He’d been so afraid for so long and there just didn’t seem to be an end.

He started the engine and headed back across the river towards home. He pulled into the driveway and grabbed the box that had the papers from the lawyer and accountant plus the death certificates and the paperwork from the bank. 

He fumbled putting his key in the lock and finally got the door open, pausing to pull even more mail from the mailbox before closing the door. As he walked into the living room, concentrating on not dropping the mail off of the box he felt something grab him and slam him against the wall, sending the box and mail flying out of his hands and all over the floor.

“Did you think that was funny, locking me in an ash circle?” Scott said, his eyes burning red.

“No,” Stiles said, pushing fruitlessly against his former best friend, trying to get free. “I thought I didn’t want to hear you argue and defend fucking Theo while I tried to get you to listen to actual evidence.” 

“You could have just told me! We’re supposed to be best friends!” Scott said. 

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles said, “I’ve been telling you for weeks I didn’t trust him! And when my dad died you rushed to Lydia’s to make sure she knew Theo couldn’t have done it because he was with you!” 

“He was with me!” 

“And obviously that was on purpose!” Stiles shouted. “It’s fucking Gerard all over again. You’ll work with anyone instead of trusting me.” 

“Gerard?” Scott said, “What does he have to do with this?” 

“Well for one he’s apparently still alive, which you’ve known and kept a secret!” Stiles said. 

“Chris said-“ 

“I don’t give a fuck what Chris Argent said! It’s a big fucking coincidence that he’s all ‘we hunt those who hunt us’ and ‘we have a code’ until it comes to the fucking psychos in his own family!” 

Scott let him drop and let go of him, “We can trust Chris, he’s our ally!” 

Stiles pushed his way free and snorted, “I don’t trust that piece of shit at all, and I can’t understand why you do! What about when he shot you with a fucking crossbow? And the way he’s basically looked the other way to Kate’s psychopathic ways for decades, but hey, he’s a hunter so you’ll do anything to work with those assholes, god, do you even see how fucking self loathing you are? You hate what you are so much you keep working with the actual monsters.” 

“He’s Allison’s father!” 

“And we all remember how easy it was for her to go dark side and shoot our classmates full of arrows before locking them in the basement to torture, and then selling me out to her grandfather!” 

“She didn’t know about that!” 

“Did she say that?” Stiles said. “Because I’ll be honest, the whole time she was apologizing, what I noticed was how hard she worked to avoid saying she didn’t know.” 

“You said you forgave her.”

“Of course I did. If I told her to get fucked I’d have lost you. I knew who your first pick would be.”

“I’ve always chosen you first,” Scott said in a tone of utter certainty. “Always.”

“When Scott? When did you choose me first since you got the bite? Since I told you to stay away from Allison and not to play lacrosse until you got control? Was it every time you ditched me for her? Fuck, how about for Isaac? When you left me behind to work with Gerard and even Deucalion? Or when you believed Theo over me?” Stiles felt his tears rising again and held them back, he wouldn’t cry in front of Scott.

“You admitted you killed Donovan, what was I supposed to do?” Scott shouted.

“Trust me. Trust that I’m not a cold blooded killer. But no, Theo tells you I murdered him in cold blood and he’d never lie to you right?” 

“It wasn’t like that,” Scott said, looking crushed. “He said you just went too far-“

“It was like that. It’s always like that! It doesn’t matter what’s right or what’s true or what’s smart, it only matters what you want, Scott! Whatever it is, you’ll do anything, take anything from your friends, or betray an ally or brother to get it. It’s only your enemies you ever respect. Gerard, Deucalion; they have to be given every chance to redeem themselves, to change, to prove that Scott Fucking McCall’s way is the right way. Well Scott, look what that cost me. Last time it was a cracked rib and a possible concussion, this time it was my dad, my fucking dad. He treated you like a son! But I bet that’s pretty cheap in your eyes if you’d be fine letting fucking Donovan Donati kill me in that library instead.” 

“You know that’s not true!” Scott said, and Stiles thought maybe that he’d finally got his point through.

“We’ll find him, I’ve been looking. I’ll keep looking. We can fix this,” Scott said.

“What’s there to fix, Scott? My dad is dead. He’ll always be dead. He’s not going to Peter Hale out of the grave. And you keep making it sound like this is somehow about you,” Stiles said, his voice tight and cold. “And no one will find Theo again. I already dealt with him. And no Scott, it didn’t fix anything.” 

Scott’s face stilled, like he was trying to put together a puzzle that wouldn’t go together the way he wanted it to. “You killed him?” Scott said softly. “But we aren’t killers, we don’t have to be killers!” 

“He killed my dad, Scott. I warned you for weeks that he couldn’t be trusted, but you kept pulling him in closer cause he played into your smug ‘I’m the amazing True Alpha’ bullshit.”

Scott’s eyes flared red and he swung back around and shoved Stiles back into the wall and Stiles felt a flare of pain as he hit the wall. 

“WE DON’T KILL!” Scott shouted. “We’re not like PETER!” 

“You’re right,” Stiles said, as he stepped away, wincing over the pain in his back, “you’re not like Peter. And that’s why I went to him for help, because you can’t stop talking about how terrible this is for your shitty morals, while we went out and took care of the problem.” 

Scott’s face fully transformed with his rage. Peter had always been a sore point, and Stiles knew just where to twist the knife. Because he was beyond caring. 

Scott moved, almost a blur to human sight, and Stiles moved at the same time. He knew some of the tricks hunters used, hints Allison had dropped, or things he’d seen from watching Chris, but part of it was purely due to whatever had been happening with himself. He caught Scott, not to stop him but to redirect him and add even more force to his movement.

Scott flew through the air and crashed into the opposite wall, and Stiles winced as his parents' wedding photo smashed to the ground.

The werewolf lifted himself up off the ground and shook his head slightly, “What was that?” 

“That’s what I haven’t been able to tell you about that night. I was trying to figure out what was going on. I’ve been panicked, and I haven’t been able to trust you,” Stiles said, his chest burning and hands shaking. “I needed you, I needed to be a priority for once. Just a little bit. But I haven’t been in a long time.”

“That’s such bullshit,” Scott said.

“Where were you after the nogitsune? After Gerard? The same place you’ve been since Donovan. Somewhere else. But spoiler, Scott, you can’t be everywhere, you can’t save everyone. Pick your pack for once. Save your pack for once. Stop thinking you know best or can save everyone. How many people have to die before you realize you can’t. No one can.” 

“So all of this, it’s about me?”

“No Scott. Get it through your head, it’s not about you. Not everything is about you. This is about me. For once. This was about what I needed. To feel safe. To feel like my dad's death was paid for. Now if you’ll be so fucking kind as to get the fuck out of my house fuck on off and out of my life.” 

Scott gave him a long look, and opened his mouth as if to say something but Stiles shook his head and said, “Just go.” 

For a moment there was something that might have been regret on Scott’s face, but then he was out the door and it closed with a thud.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weeeeeell now. 
> 
> If you think I hate Scott in season 5, you would be right.I think even Scotts biggest fans would agree that it’s the worst version of Scott we see, and to use it as a departure point, well, it’s easy to take him one step further. 
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think! The bro!tp is dead! While I do have a plan moving forward, this is sort of the last gasp death of canon, so I’m curious to see where people think it’s headed! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are the air I breathe;-)


	8. Chapter 8

After Scott left, Stiles slumped against the couch, staring at the mess on the floor and the cracked drywall where he’d hit. With a sigh he finally eased himself down, feeling the painful burn of whatever injuries his impact with the wall had left behind. 

As he gathered the papers back into the box he realized that he would heal, his own superpowered healing might not be anything special compared to a werewolf, but he’d wake up tomorrow without pain or scar. 

The real damage was on the inside he knew, and would take a lot longer to heal. He tried to figure out when Scott had become this person, but he couldn’t find it. He couldn’t think of a time when his ride or die had turned into a stranger. 

When everything was back in the box he gingerly stood back up, and walked into the kitchen and set it down on the kitchen table with the mail he’d been ignoring all week. Then he went and got his dad's laptop and checkbook, stopping by the safe and grabbing the thick stack of paperwork his dad had explained to him just after the Jennifer Blake scare. 

He glanced at the time and decided to call for pizza before he started. He wasn’t hungry, not really. But years of taking Adderall and he’d learned to schedule his eating. Even now when he’d missed multiple doses over the previous week his appetite still hadn’t returned and the habit of eating was what was left.

Afterwards he reorganized everything on the table, pulling out the bills that needed to be paid, checked the balance of the checking account and started to pay what he could online. 

When he was done, he put aside the one bill he’d have to mail out with a check, (because Beacon Hills Water and Sewer had a ridiculously antiquated system where you still had to mail them a check like it was the fucking Dark Ages. And his dad had complained about it without fail every month, and that memory was both bitter and comforting) and started filling out the paperwork for the insurance companies. 

He knew he’d eventually need to talk to someone at the county, since his dad had died on duty, so there was a whole other set of insurance claims he’d need to file, but for now he could start dealing with the mortgage life insurance his dad had added to the house mortgage when he refinanced after his mother’s death. 

Stiles moved onto his dad's whole life policy, filling out the paperwork by rote and pairing it with another death certificate. 

Stiles wondered why movies never showed how much of what happens after someone dies is just mind numbing hours of paperwork. He had a brief urge to call Derek just to ask him who had done the paperwork when his family had died. 

Stiles had always assumed Laura had just dealt with everything, but sitting here now, he was struggling with the paperwork that had been left organized and ready. But in the aftermath of the fire? Parents dead and paperwork turned to ash? How much more difficult would it have been? And he wondered if either of the survivors ever had? That in the wake of that loss, that in the absence of time and all the needed paperwork it had just slipped through the cracks. 

Or, maybe he was overthinking it, and a family that kept 130 million dollars in bearer bonds hidden in a doomsday vault in case of an emergency, probably also kept someone around to deal with things like taxes and wills. Idle thoughts of this supposed CPA to the supernatural occupied his thoughts as he filled out the tedious stack of forms.

When he was finally done with everything he could do for the night, he clipped each set of paperwork together with a paperclip and slipped everything back in the box. 

Flinching from the stiffness in his muscles he stood up and opened the fridge, then closed it with a sigh and checked the time. To stay busy while he waited he got a couple of large garbage bags and started to empty out anything from the fridge that wouldn’t be good past the two weeks he was planning to be gone. He hesitated over the milk and decided to hold off in case he wanted cereal in the morning. Then changed his mind and tossed it out too.

He wasn’t sure what he even felt anymore. All he seemed to feel was a numbness. The revenge that had been pushing him along was taken care of. The rage at Scott was gone. Something in that final confrontation had burned out the last of the anger, the end of the fury. Now there was just this nothing filling him up.

He heard a knock at the door and opened it, expecting the pizza but was surprised to find Rafe McCall instead.

“Agent McCall,” he said, confused. 

“Stiles,” Rafe said, then, “Can we talk?” 

“Sure.” Stiles stepped aside, then led the way to the kitchen where he’d moved onto cleaning out the freezer.

McCall glanced around. “Cleaning?” 

Stiles shrugged, “Like I said, Peter and I are planning to get out of town for a week or so, and I needed something to-“ he hesitated, trying to find the words, “to occupy me I guess.” 

McCall looked at him, “I’m not going to beat around the bush, Scott called me as I was getting ready to leave the station. He was really angry, and made some accusations that I wanted to talk to you about.” 

Stiles turned and looked at the agent, absolutely floored that Scott had taken it to his dad. Pissed, he said, “Is this about how I pushed him around the living room? Shall I show you what he did to me?” He turned and pulled up his shirt, revealing the bruises he could tell were forming. 

“Jesus,” McCall said, touching his back softly, and Stiles wondered how bad it looked. “Scott did this?” 

“Yeah. I’d say you should see the other guy, but, you know, werewolf healing,” Stiles said, letting the simplest truth damn his former friend and let his shirt settle back into place.

“That’s not why I came. He didn’t say anything about that,” Rafe said. “He said you probably killed this Theo Raeken kid, who’s apparently gone missing. He says you think Raeken killed your father.” 

Stiles had already been thinking ahead, racing to decide what to tell the agent, who continued, “And he also says you killed the Donovan kid who’s missing.” 

“Wow, that’s quite the list of victims I’ve got piling up. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to have managed to kill Donovan who disappeared from a county transport vehicle while I was with Scott, my dad, and like five witnesses.” 

“He seemed a little unclear about that. He said something about the school library, but I don’t have any record of a crime scene there at all.” 

“I’ll leave it to you to sort out what Scott believes,” Stiles said, “I’m done with him.” 

“And this Theo kid? Do you think he killed your dad?” 

“I do,” Stiles finally said a moment later.

McCall gave him a long look. “Why?” he finally said. 

“I may have, errr, slightly interfered with your investigation.” 

McCall gave him a long look.

“The recordings on my dad’s phone. Once you charged his phone, the files uploaded to the cloud.” 

“We checked those recordings.” 

“Not before I deleted the last one.” 

“Why?” 

“Well, let’s see. The mentions of werewolves? Then there was the kanima, and kitsune and banshees all appeared. Plus the personal highlight of my memorable bout of demonic possession, which I’d really like to keep a secret.” He looked away as he spoke, and then looked back. “I did save a copy. Which I may have played for Scott so he’d get his head out of his ass over his fixation that Theo wasn’t an actual villain.” 

McCall sighed and closed his eyes. “I want a copy of the recording.” 

“Fine,” Stiles said. 

“And did you kill this Theo kid?” 

“No. He was alive last I saw him,” Stiles said, skirting the very edges of honesty.

“Stiles-“ 

“I’m not lying. If I’d killed him, I’d have danced a jig on his grave. But as far as I know Lydia hasn’t called his name and I think that’s something I’d hear.” 

“We have ways of dealing with these things at the FBI,” McCall said. 

“Do you?” Stiles said. “Because someone needs to do something about these Dread Doctors, and so far I haven’t seen any FBI besides you here.” 

“Give us some time. We’re trying to find out some information.” 

Stiles snorted. “And you think I should trust you to deal with Theo and you can’t even stop those creeps. Whatever, Agent McCall.”

“I’m trying, Stiles,” McCall said, sounding tired, “So this is why you’re leaving town?” You’re going after this Theo?” 

“You think I’d admit that if we were?” Stiles said, genuinely surprised.

“I understand that sometimes with supernaturals justice has to happen outside of the law, I just don’t think that you should be the one to pursue it.” 

“As it happens, we aren’t going after Theo, though I’m not sure who else has better grounds to go after him,” Stiles said. “I just need to get away.” 

“I’m not sure I believe that.”

“And I’m not sure I care what you believe,” Stiles said. “If you find Theo before me, maybe you’ll manage to do your job, if not, I promise I’ll do mine. And you have two weeks until I’m back.” 

“Where are you going?” 

Stiles was quiet for a long time, then admitted, “To try to find my grandmother.” 

Rafe paused, and Stiles realized that Rafe knew about his grandfather. 

“How do you know?” Stiles said.

Rafe didn’t even pretend not to understand the question. “There’s a pretty significant file. Your dad's name is flagged in it.” 

Stiles nodded. “Any chance you know where she went?” 

Rafe shook his head, “It was easier to disappear then. You have a lead?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Good luck,” Rafe said. Stiles believed the man meant it. 

“Thanks,” Stiles said, and a few minutes later the agent was gone.

  
  


After the pizza finally arrived Stiles ate mechanically as he sorted the paperwork he’d need the next day from what could be put off until he got back, then pressed Peter’s number on his phone.

“What time will you be here in the morning?” Peter said without preamble.

“Slight delay,” Stiles said. “I have to get the wall in the living room fixed, and probably my locks changed.” 

Peter was silent for a moment. “Scott,” he finally said, not a question. 

“Scott,” Stiles acknowledged.

“I’ll deal with that. Someone will be there tomorrow morning.” 

“I guess maybe I can see if Lydia or Parrish can meet him?”

“Just leave the keys with him in the morning before you come get me.”

“We’re supposed to leave town tomorrow.”

“And we will. Leave him your key, tell him to just leave the new keys with Parrish or Lydia.” 

“Just trust a stranger with my dad's house?” 

“I promise it will be perfectly safe.” 

“You’re sure he’s trustworthy?” 

“Completely,” Peter said, “and a shifter that not even Scott would want to get on the bad side of.” 

“An alpha?” 

“No, a bear shifter. They’re rare but immensely strong.” 

“How do you know a were-bear?” Stiles said. “How did I not know that was a thing?” 

“As I said, rare, and you’ve known about the supernatural for a year. There’s a lot you don’t know. And don’t annoy him.” 

“I’m hurt Peter.” 

“He’ll be there at 9. Be ready,” Peter said and hung up. 

“He’s such a Hale,” Stiles grumbled as he shoved the rest of the slice in his mouth.

He didn’t let go of his phone though, the desire to make one more call growing in him.

He hesitated, his hand on the phone for a long long time before he finally turned it over and tapped on his number four speed dial. The phone rang once, then a second time. Before it could ring a third time an achingly familiar voice answered, clearly sleep fogged, “Stilinski?” 

“Jacks,” he said softly. 

“What’s wrong? You never call me this late.” 

“I needed to talk.” 

“Then talk,” Jackson said, sounding more awake, “I’ll always listen.” 

Something broke loose in Stiles. A wall. A dam. And it all spilled out. While Jackson listened to every word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand it’s done.  
> Seriously chapter 8 was supposed to be an easy chapter. Instead it added a new subplot, and blew up the outline for everything that comes after it. But in ways that make it better.  
> Chapter 9 was finished while this one was in edits, so it’ll probably be up in a few days.  
> You might notice the chapter count has changed to 11 chapters. This is more of an outline thing than anything else. What was originally planned to be a two chapter short fic between the two longer stories will be reorganized into one epilogue at the end of this story.  
> On that note, Happy Halloween! Tomorrow is the start of Nanowrimo, which I will be taking part in, in the sense I’m going to try to write two 30-40k fics in a month. Wish me luck! 
> 
> As always your kudos and comments give me strength.


	9. Chapter 9

He was packed and almost ready to go when Lydia stopped by on her way to school, with a last minute list of things he should think about while he was gone. He gave her a copy of his research on what Valack had said, and she told him about Scott’s call to her to tell her about Stiles killing Theo and Donovan. 

Lydia had already decided that she wasn’t ready to leave the pack, even though she was furious at Scott. She knew Malia and Kira needed her; she felt the need to do what she could to help against the Dread Doctors, and she would be most effective from within a group.

He promised that he’d keep in touch, and asked her to keep him in the loop as to what was going on, and then they hugged and she headed off to school. 

A few minutes later the contractor Peter called arrived, and Stiles wondered how he’d gotten the man to come so promptly, supernatural or not. He hoped the bear shifter turned out to be trustworthy. He showed him the cracked drywall, and the contractor, whose name was Adam, said it would be no problem to get it fixed, and the locks done. Stiles told him to drop the new keys off with Parrish at the station, and Adam said he’d be glad to. 

He handed over his house key, and glanced around one last time before grabbing the last bag and heading outside. 

They’d decided on the 4Runner because one of the stops Stiles wanted to make was to check in on his grandparent’s old cabin since he and his father hadn’t made it up there over the summer, and Peter’s ridiculous car would not be able to handle the road, plus the 4Runner had more room to stretch out of it were needed.

It felt strange to be leaving his Jeep behind though, even knowing that until he took care of the repairs it so desperately needed, it would be a terrible plan to risk it on a road trip. But it felt like he was leaving something essential behind, abandoning some part of his identity that he wasn’t ready to give up. He sighed and patted its hood, then climbed in the 4Runner and headed towards Peters apartment. 

——————

Peter, surprisingly, was fine letting Stiles drive as they headed north out of Beacon Hills towards the Oregon border. 

“What do you remember about your grandmother?” Peter finally asked at the rest stop outside Weed. 

“I never met her,” Stiles said. “Dad looked for her a few times, he thought she might have gone back to Oregon. She left when dad was in high school.” 

“Because of your grandfather?” 

“He’s a piece of shit. Like, really horrible. Dad said he used to beat her. She left after he broke her arm, just, wasn’t there when he went home.”

“And now you think you can find her?” 

“I just feel like I should try,” Stiles said. “It was important to my dad. I owe it to him to keep looking. And, she should know. About dad I mean.” 

Peter looked at him for a moment before turning away and heading back to the car. Neither of them really said anything as they got back on the road. The next hour of the drive north was mostly quiet, Stiles explained about what both McCalls had said, and Peter reassured him that Lydia and he had dealt with Theo’s remains in a way they’d never be found without Lydia’s own powers. 

Around the time they hit the Oregon border, Stiles opened up about his theories on the Dread Doctors.

“While I was reading that book that Valack wrote, I had an idea, something I read, but I was-“ he paused, “you know, not in a good head space. I couldn’t concentrate. And then my dad- But last night I remembered that thought. What did Valack mean by ‘dread’?” He looked at Peter who was listening intently. “Like, was he giving a hint? Or did he just like the alliteration?” 

“But you think it means something.” 

“I do,” Stiles said. “Valack also hinted at it to Lydia. He said ‘frequency and vibration’. And one of them, he said something to Liam, he said, ‘we’re on a frequency you can’t possibly imagine’ when they were trying to stop them with frequency jammers. But those are designed to jam high frequency communication. What if the key is in the word ‘dread’? Because infrasonic sound below 20 hz, has been shown to inspire fear. And it makes sense, if you’re going to harness sound, go deep, not high, it’s almost impossible to stop.” 

“You’re trusting Valack to give accurate information?” 

“I’m trusting Valack to serve his own interests,” Stiles said. “And he said the frequency they use is tied to the convergence point. I remember that phrase, Danny used it to describe the places where telluric currents intersect with a ley line crossroads. They’re places where-“ 

“I know what they are,” Peter said. “Places of power. They’re said to be uncomfortable and otherworldly.” 

“Exactly,” Stiles said. “I think that’s the frequency they use. That’s why he said Liam couldn’t imagine it.” 

“Impressive,” Peter said. “How does this help you?” 

“To stop something you have to understand it,” Stiles said. “And while I was eating this morning I did some research on active noise cancellation. We still need to know a few things, but I think it’s the right direction.”

“I understand, but how does this help  _ you?” _ Peter said. “What does stopping these doctors do for  _ you? _ You’re not in Scott's pack anymore. You’re free of his black and white morality and need to be a hero.” 

Stiles was quiet for a moment, thinking about Peter’s question. He watched the trees speed by. Taller and thicker on the Oregon side of the border than in California. 

“I want to help people,” Stiles finally said. “I liked that part of it. I liked feeling like even if we didn’t follow the law we did the right thing.” 

“So you want to be Batman,” Peter sighed, “How tedious. Well, I suppose there was little chance a cop's son would go full supervillain.” 

“Maybe more Punisher than Batman,” Stiles said, thinking of Theo and Donovan, and wondering if, or more likely when, a third name would join the list and if there’d ever be a time when he’d start to forget names. 

“So you’re going to still go after them.” 

“Yeah. But I don’t have claws or anything. I need to be smart.” 

“I’m insulted by your insinuation that having claws means you can’t be intelligent,” Peter said, watching the claws extend on his right hand. 

Stiles laughed a little and took the exit into Medford to fill up the gas tank. 

——————

The sky was dark when Stiles took the final turnoff up into the trees toward the old cabin. The stars above seemed brighter and far closer than in the city, and the air was crisp with a hint of fall. 

“This seems like a strange place for a Beacon Hills sheriff to own a cabin.” 

“It was my dad’s grandparents house,” Stiles said. “We’ve been on the Taylor homestead since we turned off the paved road.” He took the last switchback and rounded the last trees and pulled into the thinly graveled and weed choked parking spot.

“Charming,” Peter said, his voice amused.

“You’re probably mapping out all the places to hide bodies.” 

“What would be the point?” Peter said. “Lydia has clearly made body disposal superfluous.” 

Stiles snorted slightly as he slid out of the 4Runner and grabbed the flashlight and his keys. Peter followed behind and Stiles could feel him watching as he unlocked and opened a side door and stepped in, flipping open the gray electrical access panel and flipping on all the circuits. Then he shut it and they stepped back out and he locked the door behind him. 

He unlocked and opened the front door, and flipped on the lights. It was strange to be there without his dad. It felt less welcoming, less like the shared adventure that trips up here had always been. 

He walked through the cabin flipping on all the lights, looking for any signs of broken windows or animals, just like his dad always had. 

“I don’t smell anything beyond a few mice having come through, and not recently,” the werewolf said, and Stiles looked up in surprise. 

“Thanks,” he said, “I didn’t even think of asking.” 

“It’s actually quite cozy on the inside,” Peter said looking around. “You’re hoping there’s a clue here your dad missed over the years?” 

“More that it’s the best place to start. I know my grandfather got rid of anything she left behind, and he never liked this place but she refused to give it up. Dad paid the taxes for years. The old bastard hadn’t even done that and the county was on the verge of seizing it.” 

“Well we can look around tomorrow,” Peter said. “I’ll grab the bags, besides the one with mountain ash and wolfsbane.” 

“It’s not for you,” Stiles said, realizing how it might look. “It’s just in case.” 

Peter smirked, “I hadn’t thought it was, I’ve always known if you were going to kill me you’d use more direct means.” Then the wolf turned and sauntered away to get the bags. 

—————

“Will you tell me a story?” Stiles said suddenly, full of the food from dinner and slightly bored without the Internet, “Like, a werewolf story. You have to have your own stories and legends right?” 

“We do,” Peter said. “When we were little my grandmother used to tell Talia and me these really dark stories, I think she was secretly a sadist.” 

“So you take after her?” 

Peter laughed and was quiet for a moment before he smiled and began. “I have one. My favorite story about the origin of werewolves, which is from the Byrranga Mountains in Russia, which is about as far north as you can go before you hit the arctic ice. It’s cold in the summer and uninhabitable in the winter, and desolate at the best of times. One day a great White Wolf appeared, able to walk on two legs or four, and feasted on both the tribal hunters and the beasts they followed. When winter came she retreated to a cave in the mountains, and gave birth to a dozen cubs in the snow and darkness. 

“Improbably, the cubs thrived, first feasting on their mother’s milk, sapping her life and strength and then feasting on the endless snow and ice and even the darkness as they grew and grew and grew. As the first light from the south appeared, they finally turned on each other until one emerged victorious to kill her aging mother and howl out her victory, and ascendancy. 

“The cycle continued the following year, the White Wolf feasting all summer on both the hunters and the beasts of the field, a fearsome creature that could appear at any time. When winter came she retreated to the cave in the mountains where her mother had gone before her, and repeated the cycle. 

“To this day, each White Wolf howls to signal the death of their predecessor, and to announce their own right of rule.” 

“Jesus,” Stiles said. “Your grandmother told you that?” 

Peter nodded. “She was quite a terrifying old thing. She was the first Hale to master the full shift, and she lived through the great slaughter in Europe. She used to say that we were descended from the White Wolves of the far north.”

A thought struck Stiles and he looked at Peter with fresh eyes. It had never really occurred to him that the Hales, born werewolves, were culturally so different. But it made sense of a thousand random comments he heard but not understood from both Derek and Peter. 

“Is that why-“ Stiles hesitated, he’d wanted to bring up Peter’s dying and resurrection before but wasn’t sure how, this seemed like as good an opening as he’d get, “when you died, you never really seemed to blame Derek.” 

“I don’t blame him,” Peter said. “I killed his sister. I was-“ the man hesitated, “not completely sane.” He finally said, “I’m not saying it was right, but I can understand it. I can forgive it. He felt I was putting him in danger, putting everyone in danger. And he wasn’t wrong.” 

“But then you attacked Scott.” 

“Scott’s a weak alpha. He took the story Deaton gave him about being a ‘true alpha’ and ran with it. He won’t kill to protect his pack. He allies with the hunters that would slaughter us. He’s a danger and he leads others into further danger.” 

“And you wanted to be the White Wolf.” 

Peter gave him an approving look, “Who else?” 

Stiles watched the firelight flicker against the older man’s face, which seemed to shift and change constantly in the light. At once familiar and strange, and unpredictable just like the man himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s Election Day here in the US (to everyone elsewhere, I’m sorry about the last four years, it’s been a nightmare) and hopefully we’re moving back in the right direction.   
> My hope was to get this finished before Election Day, but I’ve been obsessed with the election news.   
> The last chapter and epilogue are getting close to finished, so they should be up soon. Then I’ll be taking a short break from this world to write on the other gift fic I owe this year, very sketchily based on Love and Monsters. Then I’ll be back to write the second part of this story. Which will pick up all the threads that I’ve set up.   
> I thought I’d add a comment about Stiles’s grandmother. I’ve always been interested in implicit characters. 3 of Stiles’s grandparents are never mentioned after all. Neither is Derek’s father, Isaac’s mother, or Lydia’s grandfather. And I wonder about them. Stiles’s grandparents should be a part of this story. A scene from part two with Elias Stilinski is one of the pieces I’m confident will survive from my current notes.   
> Anyway, a long winded way to say, I hope you liked the chapter, and as always, comments and kudos are motivation that this isn’t being thrown out into an uncaring void.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of Stiles’s story. The epilogue will be what was originally going to be a stand alone two chapter story between ‘Strike of the Match’ and ‘Out of the Ashes’ (the title of the sequel to this story, which will be written during the next month or so). It has a different POV character, and sets in motion some resolution for Strike and sets up the plot for Ashes.   
> Chapters 9 and 10 did change a lot of my original plan for parts of Ashes, so I’m currently rethinking some of the plot, while I’ve been building an outline of the Love and Monsters fusion that I’m writing next. The first chapter of that will be up soon. Though you’ll probably see the next chapter of I Am Not Iron Man first, since it’s been basically done for a couple weeks.  
> If you’re interested in reading Ashes, I’d recommend subscribing to the series, if you’re interested in my other stuff too, subscribe to me.   
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you’re enjoying the story. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are awesome. And if you have questions feel free to ask, I do answer.

He went through the old house carefully. Paying attention to details he’d never noticed before. Peter watched him for a few minutes before disappearing out the door, and Stiles was too focused to notice he’d left until the man tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a sandwich.

“Take a break,” he said, “it’ll still be there in 20 minutes.” 

Stiles bit back the impulse to ignore him and put the box of fifty year old tax records back on its shelf and followed him back out to the living room. 

“Nothing yet?” he asked. 

“There’s a lot of stuff, but nothing that gives a hint of her direction when she left, or where she might go. Dad checked with her sister a few times, but she hasn’t ever heard anything.” 

“Have you thought that if she wanted to be found she’d have gotten in touch with him?” Peter asked softly. 

“Yeah. I mean, I get that she’s probably either dead or has decided to just cut free, but it was important to him, so I have to try, you know?” 

Peter nodded, not saying anything, and a few minutes later Stiles headed back to the closet he’d been going through, and grabbed the next box. 

Several hours later, when he’d finished in the master bedroom and both of the other bedrooms, he finally admitted defeat. If she’d left something behind it was too well hidden for him. 

As he cooked dinner he thought over the options. Stay. Go. But where? Not back to Beacon Hills, he wasn’t ready. He wanted someplace to go though. Someplace that still felt like home. 

Peter seemed to understand his mood, and spent the afternoon reading an old Danielle Steel novel that had been around the house longer than Stiles could remember. 

After dinner he called Rafe, to check in mostly, though he made sure to ask how the search for Theo was going. He also called Lydia, who told him that Scott was getting increasingly erratic and had been calling both Deaton and Chris Argent nonstop trying to get ahold of them, and also gave him an update on Malia's worries about her mother. 

Peter excused himself to go for a run, which left Stiles at loose ends and he paced through the house looking for something, anything to occupy him. He realized it was an effect of the adrenaline, and he tried to calm himself down. It didn't really work, but he tried to keep it in mind. Finally he picked up the phone again, and hesitantly called Derek.

"Stiles," Derek said when he answered.

"Big Bad, how’s Mexico?" 

"I'm in Arizona right now," Derek said, "Braeden is tracking down a lead on the Desert Wolf that led back to California, and I was following up on another lead here." 

"So nothing yet?"

"No," Derek said, and the line fell quiet, before the older man replied, "What's this about Stiles?"

"My dad's dead," Stiles finally said. 

"Fuck, Stiles," the werewolf replied, "Was it part of what's been going on?"

"Yeah, have you heard about Theo?"

"Malia mentioned him. He's a beta that's been working with Scott right?"

"Yeah, well, apparently he was a bad guy."

"I'm sorry," Derek said, with an earnestness that was apparent even through the phone.

"Yeah, well, I broke Peter out of Eichen and we dealt with the problem," Stiles said.

"Peter was in Eichen?" Derek said. "Wait, when you say you dealt with the problem?"

"I wasn't sure if Scott had told you or not," Stiles said.

"I'd have come back and gotten him out myself If I'd known," he replied. "That's no place for any werewolf." 

"That's what Peter said."

"Do you need me?" Derek asked.

"Not really, I just thought you should know," Stiles said, then hesitated, "I've been talking to Jackson, you know, about dad and about the nogitsune, what it did. He said he still thinks of you as Pack."

"That's how it works," Derek replied. "He turned from my bite. We'll always be connected. It's part of the problem between Scott and Peter. That animosity, that hatred, it becomes like a magnet."

"I thought it was sort of a choice thing." 

"For humans, it is. But for wolves, the real bond is between a beta and the alpha who made him." 

"Even when he's not an alpha anymore."

"Even when. If I felt that Isaac or Jackson needed me, I'd be on the next flight out. That instinct doesn't die." 

"Can Scott find me through Peter?"

"Scott doesn't know where you are?"

"No. We kind of broke up, in a we are never ever ever getting back together sort of way." 

“Because of Theo." 

"Because of Scott. Theo was just the thing, you know? The match that lit the fire." 

"I'm going to head back there." 

"Peter and I are up in Oregon right now. I think I told you my dad had a place up here." 

"I can meet you there," Derek said. "The Desert Wolf can wait."

"It's fine. Really," Stiles said. 

"That's good, I'm still coming. I'll head out in the morning." 

"We could meet you there," Stiles said. "I keep wanting to just go, and sitting still is making me crazy." 

"I'm up in northern Arizona, in a little town called Jerome, outside Sedona," Derek said. "Peter knows where to find me." 

"There must be a story there." 

"There's a pack here. He knows them. It’s complicated." 

"Derek Hale being all sociable, this I do need to see. Or wait, are you, I mean is it your pack? Like you joined?”

"No. The alpha had information on Malia’s mother. I'll see you in a couple of days, and explain then," Derek said.

"You're getting soft in your old age, Hale, you haven’t threatened to hurt me or kill me in this whole conversation." 

"It’s not too late." 

Stiles laughed and hung up. He felt better already. He had a purpose. A destination. He knew that eventually he'd need to learn to just be again, without a constant need for a goal and to be doing something, but for now, yeah this worked.

They didn't get on the road particularly early, Stiles had pulled out the map, and looked at routes to get to Jerome. Northern Arizona, as it turned out, has a rather large canyon that dominates the landscape. But time was something he had, and he remembered pictures he’d seen of Arches and Bryce Canyon in southern Utah, and it looked beautiful. He and his dad had driven through Nevada once to see the Grand Canyon, and his only real memory of Nevada was that the best thing about it was leaving it. 

So he decided to go north through Bend and then east along I84, cutting across Idaho and then back south through Utah. He had the time. He’d told the school he’d be gone for two weeks, and he needed the time away. The goal had been to get out of town, not to be somewhere at a particular time. So he texted Derek the plan and they finally hit the road after securing the house.

Stiles let Peter drive in silence for the first part of the drive, the road passing by, mile after mile of asphalt and tree lined roads, as they headed back to the interstate. 

“I used to think a happy ending was inevitable," Stiles finally said, breaking the silence. "Probably too many Disney movies or fairy tales or something. And then my mom died.” 

"And now?" 

"I think shit just happens. I think any meaning in it, we have to find for ourselves. Scott always seemed so sure that 'rightness' was something to aspire to. That it was-" he paused.

"Objective instead of subjective?" 

"Exactly." 

"Scott sees the world in black and white." 

"But it's not." 

"No, it's not," Peter said, then added, "Can I ask you a question?"

"I'll ignore that you just did, so sure." 

“Why did you come for me?” Peter said, "At Eichen."

“I thought you’d understand, and might help me figure out how to do it.”

“And why did you think I’d help?” Peter replied, sounding smug, but dialed down and clearly curious.

“You never really seemed to hate me. Scott yeah, you made your feelings there pretty clear.” Stiles shrugged and looked away, “I figured you’d take the chance to get away, but maybe you’d help me first.” 

“Fair enough," Peter said, then continued, "It was more than that. I don't remember biting Scott. At all. I barely remember the weeks before I died. Flashes. Disconnected memories, like they're someone else's." He glanced away from the road to look at Stiles before turning his attention back. "A beta without an anchor is feral, dangerous and unpredictable, especially if they're an omega. With an alpha it's different. Without a pack, without an anchor, I was a monster. I know that."

"You killed a lot of people." 

"They deserved it."

"Laura?" Stiles said. "The janitor? The rest, yeah, they definitely deserved it." 

"Laura I'll own, but the janitor I won't," Peter said, his face serene. "What's the first rule? I know Derek told Scott." 

"Keep it a secret. Keep it hidden." 

"He called me to the school that night. Without an anchor besides the only beta I'd bitten, and my own need for revenge." 

"He saw you." 

"I heard his heartbeat. I could hear all of your heartbeats," Peter said. "Killing him wasn't the only option, rational me, somewhat saner me, could have taken his memories. But I wasn't sane. At that point I was barely aware, but the rule is deep in us."

"I forget that born wolves are different sometimes." 

"Bitten wolves are more human. They can learn to be werewolves, but on the deepest level, it's all learned, it's not bred into them."

"Do you regret biting Scott?" 

"That's complicated," Peter said, as he passed a car.

"That sounds like you're dodging the question." 

"I was. I guess, when I was more sane I realized biting Scott was a mistake. A good beta, their first reaction needs to be loyalty. Not just to the alpha, but to the pack. I watched you, and even the first time at the school and then in the hospital, you were magnificently loyal. And I’m a creature of the pack, I’m loyal because you are. That's why I stayed, to answer your first question.” 

“I was loyal to Scott,” Stiles said bitterly. “And I thought he had my back.”

“I’m not fond of Scott, he doesn’t seem to understand that loyalty must go two ways, and he sees the world narrowly. So the ‘right thing’ for him is just what makes him feel better. Saving Allison. Saving his mom. Redeeming a psychopathic alpha. It all feeds into Scott feeling he’s done the right thing but it’s not an actual moral compass. And so, in his way, he might be less moral than me in the right situation.”

"Deaton said he rose to being an alpha because he was a leader, because of his morals." 

"Deaton is a druid," Peter said, "And sees the world as the druids do. Scott Rose because he grasped onto power in a vacuum, and the power answered. There are a thousand legends about how True Alphas Rise, but the constant in all of them is chaos and struggle and the need for a leader. And even if he is a True Alpha now, maybe especially because he is, he can still fail at being loyal. The ability to Rise isn’t the ability to lead. All it means is that there was power for the taking and he took it. The person he was dictates the kind of wolf he'd become." 

“You're saying he was always like that? But he wasn't, he was my brother,” Stiles said. “And that’s not how brothers are.” 

“Having had a brother and sister of my own, I’ll say it’s sort of a luck of the draw. He’s quite a lot like my brother, actually.” 

“I didn’t know you had one.” 

“Have, actually,” Peter said. “Robert’s still alive.” 

“I thought your whole family-“ Stiles hesitated.

“The whole pack, yes. Robert left the pack long before Derek was born. The night he tried to kill Talia actually.” 

“He tried to kill his sister?” Stiles asked, his attention fixed.

Peter nodded. “Robert was the eldest. My father's favorite. But when he died the alpha spark flowed to Talia instead.” 

“I thought the inheritance was normally known ahead of time, Derek told me once that alphas usually have a sense of who’d inherit.”

“It was, there is. My father actually died in a completely mundane car accident. Talia was physically the closest to him, and she felt him die, felt the power come to her. It happens sometimes, unpredictable.”

“I thought she was supposed to be a great alpha. Why did he attack her?” 

“She was. The finest I’ve ever known. But it’s because she learned from my father how not to be.”

"So he was a real winner." 

"He was a difficult alpha for a difficult time," Peter said. “And as for why he attacked her, that’s-“ he hesitated, “I want to say complicated, but it’s not really. It’s just very much trying to explain something very very werewolf to a human.”

“Wow thanks,” Stiles said without heat.

Peter made a noise that might have been amusement. “It’s not just culture. Werewolves, born wolves at least, are not the same as humans. And Robert, that was a deeply werewolf thing. Talia had, accidentally or not, taken something of his. The urge to take it back would have been immense.” His voice was surprisingly soft and reflective.

“This is about you and Scott in the temple,” Stiles said, making the connection almost instantly. “That’s why you attacked Scott.” 

“Scott isn’t worthy of his red eyes,” Peter said. “He’s a terrible alpha. Maybe that’s my fault, maybe it’s just his age, or maybe he’s an imperfect vessel for the power. Maybe I just feel he’s taken something that by right is mine.” 

“So in short, werewolves are as complicated as humans,” Stiles said with a soft sigh. “I’m never sure if you’re a villain or not.” 

“Maybe it depends on your point of view and context,” Peter answered. “Maybe villain is an idea rooted in a black and white morality, and you and I are both creatures of gray shades.” 

“What’s your brother like?” Stiles asked.

“Unpleasant. Domineering. Driven. Authoritarian. We don’t get along. But you can meet Robert for yourself, he's the alpha in Jerome Derek is with." 

"Really? He tried to kill Derek’s mom, and Derek is cool with that?" 

Peter was silent for a moment, then said, "We’re werewolves. I killed his sister.” Peter shrugged. “Derek is a born wolf, like I am. Killing a rival for power isn't the same for us as it is for you, or for Scott. We aren't all murderers, but we are predators. Bitten wolves either take to that too readily, or not at all, depending on their own morals."

"But it's different for you." 

"We're not," Peter paused, "I hesitate to say human, because that clouds the issue, but we don't see it the same. Born wolves aren't humans, not really, but we are still people, I guess is the way to say it. Some good, some bad, still subject to a lot of the same impulses. But there are cultural differences. Some of it is basic biology, but if I went to India, to the packs there, it would be very different from what I was used to. So some of it's just culture." 

"How come Derek didn't explain any of this?" 

"Have you met my nephew?" Peter said with a laugh. "To be fair to him, Derek knows a lot of this by instinct, he's like that, instinctive. He may have a hard time explaining what it is he knows." 

Peter's attention was occupied for a few minutes as they finally merged back onto the freeway northbound. 

“How did Robert become an alpha?” 

“How did I? How did Derek? He found an alpha that was getting old, losing his grip on his pack, and took the power.” 

“Jesus.” 

“Not a werewolf.” 

“Ha Ha, werewolf has jokes.” 

“I’m a man of many facets.” 

"I’m learning that,” Stiles replied. “I feel like I should have learned this all years ago. Isn't there, like, a book?" 

"There is," Peter said. "I gave copies of one of the better ones to Scott after he Rose to being an alpha." 

"The flashdrive," Stiles said. "He said it was just a bunch of legends and a badly written bestiary. I forgot about it during what happened after."

Peter snorted. "Typical Scott," he said in a clipped tone.

"Why did you ask if I wanted the Bite?" Stiles said. "The night of the dance." 

Peter was silent for a long time, as the road passed by, before he finally said, "The Bite is a gift, it's something we learn young. What I did to Scott, that's a terrible thing. It's a gift. I asked because you would be a magnificent wolf, a worthy packmate."

"You're not such a bad guy, Peter Hale."

"I'm not a good man," Peter said. "But I'm a good wolf." 

"I want to learn all the differences between the two," Stiles said.

"We'll teach you," Peter replied, with a knowing grin, "The Hales will teach you."

  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is. The epilogue.
> 
> Honestly anything else I say now is a spoiler, see you in the end notes.

He could tell his pack was breaking up around him and he couldn’t understand what had changed. First Stiles betrayed him, somehow getting Peter out of Eichen, and Deaton wasn’t answering and Morell refused to talk to him, so he couldn’t even figure out how. 

Liam was angry and avoiding him. Furious over losing Hayden and the sheriff, which he was blaming Scott for, even though there’s no way he could have known that Theo would betray them like that! And he was still certain that there must be more to what had happened than what was on that recording. 

Kira had completely disappeared. She’d left him a letter that her mother was talking about taking her to some friends because she was losing control of her kitsune spirit.

Malia was straight up avoiding him. He’d tried to get her to talk but she kept slipping away, and he was certain that was also because of Stiles.

Only Lydia remained the same, though sometimes even with her he felt a distance couldn’t explain, like she was with him, but not with him. 

Chris had finally returned his call. He apologized for being out of touch and explained he’d had to leave town for help, and was bringing back allies to deal with the situation. It was such a relief that he’d finally have someone who understood that you had to have limits. That you couldn’t just go around killing blindly.

His mom had told him that only he could pull his pack back together. That he had to give them hope. And he could do that. He was the True Alpha, the First in a Century. The pack just needed to be reminded of why he was their leader. 

He’d start with Liam. It would be right for Liam to be with him when he met Argent’s men. It would be strange without Stiles, but Liam was solid. 

Chris was delayed an extra day to stop in San Francisco and pick up some things, but his hunters were supposed to be in town by five, and Chris told him to be watching for them. 

————

Scott watched as Liam slipped out of the trees. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he said, trying to project a hopeful feeling toward his beta. 

“Mason told me I should. He said that we still have to work together against the Dread Doctors.” 

“He’s right. We’ll have time to work out what happened between us, but we have to take care of them first. And Argent’s men will help with that. They’re good guys, they follow the Code.” 

Liam stood defiant in a way Scott had never seen, and there was the sense that something was still out of balance between them, the same feeling that had been bothering Scott for the last few days, whether Liam was nearby or not. 

He turned when he heard a sound and saw the hunters across on the other hill and turned to Liam, “Hey I’m going to go let them know we’re here. Stay back for a few minutes since they don’t know you and I want to let them know you’re a good guy.” 

He recognized the hunter he’d talked to earlier, the one he thought was named Ulrich. He had another guy with him, crossbow in hand, no one he recognized, and he started to jog towards them, not moving too fast so as not to startle them.

He waved a bit as he closed in, and was opening his mouth to say something when the first arrow ripped into him. He stumbled to his knees, the burning sensation increasing as he grabbed the arrow to pull it back out.

A second arrow slammed into him, and then a third and then more. Scott gasped in pain, trying to get back on his feet, but he could see the shadow climbing in his veins and realized they’d been coated in wolfsbane. He felt the weakness sweep over him and looked at the two men in confusion. “But I follow the code,” he gasped out. “Ask Argent.” 

A third figure walking with a cane approached behind the two hunters, and Scott was surprised when he recognized the heartbeat. It wasn’t Chris Argent though. Still familiar, it was... it was... he almost had it... 

Gerard Argent stepped into the space beside the other two hunters, leaning on a thick cane. “Gerard?” Scott said in surprise, wincing a bit with the effort. 

The old man smiled a familiar smile. “Hello Scott,” he said in a chilling voice. “It’s been awhile. As you see, I’ve found a cure for your little gift.”

“If you’ve come about the murders you know that’s not me,” Scott said. “You know I’m no killer.” 

“Yes I’ve heard about your little science experiment problem. And I’ll deal with it while I’m here, a monster is a monster after all. But no Scott, I came here for you. Did you think there were no repercussions for what you did to me? I put up with that disgusting ooze for years before Chris finally brought me the cure.”

“Chris said he was bringing help to protect Beacon Hills,” Scott said, as the burning intensified.

“Oh Scott, still playing at being a hero? I am here to protect Beacon Hills from the monsters, starting with the most dangerous one. You. And I find you with your protectors all gone, the Hale dogs, your emissary, even that traitor sheriff and his annoying son.” He tapped the cane as he spoke. “It was the perfect time for me to take care of some loose ends.” He smiled, and lifted the cane in his hand, before Scott realized with horror he was pulling a broadsword out of the cane.

“But the code-“ Scott gasped, trying to crawl away as Gerard stepped closer.

“The only code that matters is to kill the monsters, Scott,” Gerard said with a smile as he stepped closer. “And I hate to leave my work undone.” 

He heard the sword cleave through the air, and gasped as he felt the sword sweep through him, felt the heave in his body as it struck his spine, felt the second stroke that finally severed his spine, all like it was in slow motion. He fell back and could see Liam hidden in the trees back up the other hill, watching. He heard Gerard say something, could see him moving but couldn’t quite focus on the man or his words. 

He felt cold for the first time in ages, and a numbness crept through him. 

“Allison,” he whispered as he felt the darkness sweep across his senses.

In the darkness a wolf howled as red eyes flared to life.

——————

The phone rang and Stiles was certain it would go to voicemail, but finally he heard the familiar voice pick up.

“Stiles?” 

Stiles sniffed, “Jackson?” he said, “Come home? Please? I need you. It’s Scott.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. 
> 
> Did you think I was done with that major character death tag? 
> 
> I know you are going to have some questions left. Who is the alpha now? Well, Peter gives you some things to think about doesn’t he?  
> Though really, how much do you trust Peter Hale?  
> What about Stiles grandmother? The Dread Doctors? And what about Malia and the Desert Wolf?  
> Well, there’s a second part already in the works. 
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think, and comments and kudos are life.  
> Thank you for reading my story, I hope you check out some of the others I’ve written.


End file.
